


BOY EATER (2000)

by boyeater



Series: this is how to be a heartbreaker [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Complicated Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Not Really?, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, Unreliable Narrator, all of this is complicated and i think i should apologize but i will not, half of this fic is set at frat parties i am sorry, side dojae but make it broken haha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21590278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyeater/pseuds/boyeater
Summary: Donghyuck likes to make things hard for boys like Jaemin—boys with practiced smiles and eyes that hide hellfire behind a halo of soft light. A boy like Jaemin has to have his heart broken once or twice. Nothing personal.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin
Series: this is how to be a heartbreaker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1667383
Comments: 74
Kudos: 416
Collections: ’00 FIC FEST: ROUND ONE





	BOY EATER (2000)

**Author's Note:**

> prompt #00292
> 
> hi! welcome to the shit show.
> 
> disclaimer: this is first and foremost a work of fiction. the content of this is a little more on the darker? psychological? side? i don't really know how to explain it! it's not particularly violent nor gory but i wanted to explore a maybe not so picture-perfect side of love and write my own take on complicated/ambiguous relationships! nothing written in this fic is in any way a reflection of donghyuck, jaemin, or any of the other boys nor is it how i think they are in real life. i hope you'll keep in mind that this is simply a product of my imagination and they are characters of my own! with that said!!! i hope you'll! feel something! reading this little thing of mine!!! it's not like anything i have written in the past and it's a little out of my comfort zone but you know what...i am yolo-ing!!!!!!!! this is a little piece of me and i hope you'll come to grow fond of it like i have. and if not, that's okay too—thank you for sharing your time with me ^—^
> 
> \+ as tagged there are sexual themes but there's nothing too explicit because i am baby
> 
> please tread lightly—some imagery may be triggering and uncomfortable.  
>  **trigger warning** // descriptions and imagery of drowning, death, violence, suicide and attempted drugging
> 
> and now with a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLCzqEvN8j8UZvN0d0fy3w6YkaO_w1jtXk) made by anonie! x

Like all things, it starts with a rainy morning.

That’s how Donghyuck thinks it starts, anyway, but Donghyuck is a little out of touch with reality. 

The wailing clock in Donghyuck’s room says it’s 6 o’clock in the morning, and it’s absolutely too early to wake up and face the world, but it’s an important day, and Donghyuck has enough—just barely enough, really, but _enough_ self-respect to roll out of bed and make sure he’s not late. And just like that, the morning passes in a mindless daze of a long Starbucks line and a longer line in the subway, and Donghyuck isn’t really sure if he’s actually awake or just sleepwalking. Donghyuck blinks at the paper in his hands, bleary eyed and breathing shallowly, and all the words are a little blurry around the edges as if Donghyuck was left handed and wrote with a lousy gel pen. The sun makes its morning commute alongside him, inching along the skyline as the minutes of the day slip through Donghyuck’s idle fingers, faces and voices and subway signs a forgettable daydream of smudged letters and blue ink on the side of his hand. 

What a shitty day. 

Donghyuck crosses his arms over his chest and sips slowly on his iced coffee, closing his eyes for a moment and leaning against the cold metal of the subway car. The ice in Donghyuck’s coffee melts by the time the song playing on the speaker above him fades and a different pop song comes on, drops of condensation dripping down the plastic sides. The song sounds just like the one that played a moment ago, and that one like the song that played before it, and Donghyuck doesn’t like it but he doesn’t dislike it enough to do anything about it. At some point Donghyuck starts to sing along to the song in his head, and his coffee no longer tastes anything like coffee, still Donghyuck goes through the motions and sips slowly on it, absentmindedly biting at the end of the straw.

The subway car shakes, jostling him around and knocking the back of his head against the wall of the car, and Donghyuck hisses under his breath, rubbing at the fading pain with light fingers, eyes half lidded as he looks around. A kid is staring right at him, big, bug eyes lingering on the coffee in his hand, and Donghyuck arches a brow when the kid doesn’t look away after a long minute.

Donghyuck sticks his tongue out at him. 

Surprise flashes in the kid’s eyes, but like natural instinct, the kid does it right back without a moment’s thought, blowing a raspberry too to one-up him. 

What a brat. 

Donghyuck scoffs, and he cracks a smile, and the kid beams at him.

And Donghyuck decides he should do something nice today, so he looks through his backpack for something a kid might like. Kids still like lollipops, right? Donghyuck takes his chances and holds it in front of the kid, and the kid’s eyes light up, looking to his mom for permission before taking it from Donghyuck, bowing low and saying a loud thank you as he does. 

Donghyuck’s face grows warm as some passengers turn to look at them, and he just smiles and ducks his head, hiding as he sips on his coffee again. It’s more like drinking coffee flavored water now, really, but Donghyuck feels more awake than he has all morning, and he thinks it’s going to be a good day. As good of a day as any to kick off rush week. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Kim Doyoung has an intimidating first impression. 

No one has to actually say anything about his title nor does he really have to introduce himself. It is clear to anyone in the room that Doyoung is someone important, someone worth noting. 

Doyoung is all sharp, cold features, pitch black hair, long legs and crossed arms; elegance that flows through his body like water, intelligence that lines his angled eyes and the pout of his mouth, studying everyone in the room, reading body language, commanding attention; a warning look on his face, fire in his eyes and molten lava on his lips. 

Donghyuck finds himself holding his breath when Doyoung’s eyes land on him, standing still as Doyoung looks through him, and his shoulders drop in relief after Doyoung moves on, looking at the boy in front of Donghyuck.

The boy to Donghyuck’s right notices his reaction and whispers to him, “Doyoung hyung is so cool.”

Donghyuck nods.

And still something about Doyoung is particularly soothing, something comforting and innocent in how he holds himself. Maybe it is because he tilts his head and listens attentively when they ask questions, like he actually cares about what they have to say, about what worries they have. Maybe it is the way he smiles, gently and genuinely, the corners of his mouth rising into a bright smile that lights up the room. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s so quick to take underclassmen under his wing, trusting that they’re good kids without knowing a single thing about them, tossing an arm around their shoulders and patting their heads affectionately like he’s known them since they could walk. 

The first thing that Doyoung says to him is

“All the boys in Sigma Nu are good-for-nothing dicks.”

Donghyuck coughs, choking on his lemonade. 

  
“Sorry, kid, I should have waited until you swallowed.” Doyoung laughs, smiling like an angel and patting Donghyuck on his back as he coughs. “Don’t hang around them, okay, Donghyuck?” 

And Donghyuck doesn’t know what Doyoung means or why he’s suddenly saying this, but Donghyuck still hangs off his words, eyes wide and questioning. “What did they do?”

A tall boy walks by, long limbs and light brown hair, lips stretched in a big smile as he slaps a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask Doyoung hyung that question, man. You’ll be sitting there for hours.”

“Donghyuck, this is Kim Jungwoo, a third year.” Doyoung rolls his eyes, breathing a sigh. “Jungwoo, shut up.” 

“It’s only some words of wisdom, hyung. I don’t want our cute little Donghyuck to make the same mistake I made.” Jungwoo smiles, sugary and teasing. “Long story short, Doyoung hyung has history with Jung Jaehyun but if you ask him he’ll say he doesn’t.” 

“I do _not_ have history with that bastard.” Doyoung hisses, eyes blown wide and face heating up though his voice drips with indignation. Doyoung crosses his arms and pins Jungwoo with a grouchy look, mouth drawn into a pout and looking more like a sulky child than the commanding man who runs the place.

“See what I mean?” Jungwoo giggles, and he continues happily, this look in his eyes like he’s asking something of Doyoung, a silent inquiry of sorts—maybe he’s daring Doyoung to try and stop him. Donghyuck makes a note not to mess with Jungwoo. “It sucks cause Sigmas are usually eye candy.”

Doyoung turns on him, gritting his teeth and blowing up his cheeks. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck forgets about that conversation until days later.

Some of it happens in slow motion, like he’s in a movie and this is the beginning of a love story that can end in one of two ways—maybe happily ever after, and maybe it will crash and burn, sooner or later, but isn’t that how all things end? All things have to continue, days passing by mindlessly and time slipping through idle fingers until something happens, something all powerful and fated, something like a call from Heaven. And how do you hide from something like that? _Something_ happens and it all comes to an end. It’s something made of patience, something a million years old; it’s stronger than you are, stronger than I am, and it hides in the shadows. And it’s always watching, it’s had its eye on you this whole time, and it’s careful, waiting until the right moment to strike, to catch you in a single, fatal blow. 

Suddenly. All at once. 

You don’t know it’s got you until it’s too late. 

That’s how it always happens, don’t you think? Donghyuck doesn’t know what he thinks about endings like that and callings from Heaven—only that it’s bullshit, but Donghyuck has done enough to tempt karma, so he thinks he’ll sit this conversation out—but he knows that the known beginning isn’t always the true beginning. Things have a way of going unnoticed—strangers passed by and mumbles under your breath that no one catches, and it’s the same with the start of something doomed to end tragically. 

You have no clue your story has started until long down the line, until you mindlessly turn another page and realize that something is different—don’t tell me you forgot to read the words on the page? And you can’t go back, can you? Oh, how naive. What are we going to do with you? And you have no choice but to turn page after page, and you’re trying so hard to remember what is already forgotten, chasing characters long gone and reading without understanding, closing in on something that you know is coming, but you don’t really know anything, do you? You’re still so clueless, but your heart pounds with the desperation of someone with nothing to lose, and it roars with the vigor of a lion growing old. 

And maybe, _that’s_ how it starts. 

It starts with a feeling—something that makes your heart pound like a lion’s heart.

Like attraction.

Like hunting.

It’s an interesting thing to witness, huh? A predator and its prey walking around each other in circles. Forwards, backwards, no one closes in and no one backs away. A part of you hopes that against all odds, the gazelle will find a way out and run for its life. And another part of you thinks that the gazelle is no match for the lion, that it’s only a matter of time until the lion stalks closer and pounces, forcing its prey into submission and sinking its fangs into its catch. And maybe you’re right. Still, it’s hard to look away, isn’t it? It’s something like a dance of death, edging the line and teasing the flames of Hell, and it is captivating. 

And it’s one thing to witness it, but it’s another thing to feel it. 

Donghyuck catches a boy’s eyes from across the room, and Donghyuck looks away after a moment, but he can still feel the boy’s eyes on him. Still it’s only later, maybe after half an hour, that Donghyuck feels someone approach him. Donghyuck turns around, and it’s the same boy, but he looks more confident, more sure of himself, and he looks at Donghyuck like he has something he wants to say. 

“Hi.” The boy says after a moment, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Donghyuck looks him up and down. Not bad. Brown hair falls across his forehead and a white dress shirt stretches across his broad shoulders. The boy is barely taller than Donghyuck, maybe an inch or two at most if he stands straight and Donghyuck slouches like he always does, but he has presence, this air of nonchalance that maybe Donghyuck would have found intimidating once upon a time. 

Once upon a time is a long time ago, though, and Donghyuck only thinks it makes the boy a little more magnetic, something alluring about the way he holds himself, something almost calculating.

Donghyuck arches a brow, taking a slow sip of his drink if only to draw out the silence a little longer, if only to unnerve the boy. “Hi.”

“I’m Na Jaemin.” The boy looks around Donghyuck, eyes searching for something, or someone, and Donghyuck doesn’t know if he should feel interested or a little offended by the far-off look on his face, but he’s not allowed a chance to think. Jaemin turns back to look at him, mouth tilting into a charming smile. The boy has the brightest smile Donghyuck has seen in a long time. It makes Donghyuck forget what he was thinking about, mind suddenly blank. “You?”

Donghyuck feels a little out of his element, but he’s always been good at standing still on shaky ground, swimming even when he feels like sinking. And if he’s _really_ good at one thing, it’s putting on a show. Donghyuck angles his head just the slightest, looks up from under his lashes, and smiles the smile that he knows people like. And it shouldn’t make him feel so good about himself, but he’s a little shallow, and satisfaction pools at the bottom of Donghyuck’s stomach when Jaemin turns back to him, eyes focused on him and only him. Donghyuck pitches his voice just a little lower, smooth and honeyed, and holds his hand out for Jaemin to shake. “Lee Donghyuck.” 

Jaemin looks a little dazed, like he’s under a spell, but he’s still looking at Donghyuck with that charming smile on his lips, taking his hand and holding it for longer than he has to. Donghyuck smiles to himself. Too easy. “Looks like I’ll be seeing you around a lot?” 

Donghyuck already knows that he’s got the boy around his little finger. Still, Donghyuck likes to test the waters, likes to splash around and make a mess of things. 

You know, the thing about Donghyuck is that he would like to think he’s a good person with morals, really, the kind of person that walks old people across the street and helps a lost, crying child find his mother, but sometimes he does things that a good person maybe wouldn’t do, but oh, everyone makes mistakes, right? Donghyuck is simply someone who knows he’s making a mistake as he makes the mistake. And after he’s made the mistake, he says bravo and does it again. Still, it’s not like he’s the Devil incarnate, though that would be real sexy, wouldn’t it? Donghyuck likes to think that he’s something like the anti-hero in a shitty romantic comedy where his only character trait is that he looks good in black—and that he’s sexy—and the main character is in love with him though said main character doesn’t know it and in turn thinks that they’re actually enemies. 

The plot goes something like this: the main character is tall, dark, and handsome, and he’s kind and funny, and intelligent and charming, and he has a million dollar smile and dreamy eyes, and fuck it, he probably has a nice background and rich family too. The main character is picture perfect, like he walked out of a wet dream, and the anti-hero thinks he’s a fucking asshole. And he’s probably the only one on the show who thinks that, but he’s stubborn and bored, and who will make a mess of things and break unknowing hearts if not him? 

Donghyuck likes to make things hard for boys like Jaemin—boys with practiced smiles and eyes that hide hellfire behind a halo of soft light. A boy like Jaemin had to have his heart broken once or twice. Nothing personal. 

Jaemin is still looking at him, thumb rubbing slow circles into the back of Donghyuck’s palm—this one is a flirt, huh? And he’s not half bad at it. This will be fun, don’t you think? Donghyuck takes his hand back, looking Jaemin in the eye as he does, and he immediately misses the warmth of Jaemin’s hand, but he thinks he likes the look on Jaemin’s face a little more. It’s something like a cross between composure and surprise, interest, and most of all, it looks like Jaemin wants something from him, like Jaemin knows he’s going to get what he wants. 

This boy has a lot of nerve, doesn’t he?

“Maybe.” Donghyuck says slowly. It’s a good thing that Donghyuck has always had a thing for arrogant boys, huh? Donghyuck’s lips tilt into a half-smile, “Lucky you.”

Jaemin almost glows, “Lucky me.” 

The smile on Jaemin’s face is bright and flashy, kind and warm, but under all the brilliance is something dark, something that only a rose of a similar scent could smell. As pretty as could be. Delicate-looking and eye-catching. Thorns like razor blades, drawing blood from those who are curious enough to touch. Something rotting under the thick, mind-numbing rose scent. 

It feels like Donghyuck is looking at himself in the mirror, and he doesn’t see Jaemin anymore. He sees himself. 

How uncomfortable. 

Donghyuck feels like he’s just come out of a long hot shower, chills running down his spine and goosebumps lighting a wildfire on naked skin. Water vapor rises and the bathroom mirror is gray with fog. He likes it like that—like hands covering his eyes so he doesn’t have to look.

_Coward._

Donghyuck runs his hand across the mirror in slow movements, head ducked, water dripping from his wet hair, and towel tied around his hips. Donghyuck presses both hands on the mirror and leans all of his weight on the edge of the sink—it’s cold to the touch and Donghyuck forces himself to feel the cold bite his skin—and he faces himself. Donghyuck feels lightheaded. And it’s a moment at most, half of a second of self-awareness, but Donghyuck looks at himself, and he’s afraid of what he sees. 

Eyes like black obsidian. Like ink. Calculating. Careful. Lips painted red with a smile he doesn’t feel. Stained with poison and words he doesn’t mean. 

_Liar._

Donghyuck looks through himself and he sees nothing.

He wonders if he should run for his life. 

The thought is gone as suddenly as it came, lost in the back of Donghyuck’s head, and in the shadows of thoughts forgotten and words unspoken it will stay until Donghyuck fucks up and the voice in his head sings. 

_You should have run for your life._

Donghyuck’s pride will kill him one day.

And who will care if it does? 

Someone shoulders past Donghyuck and he stumbles forward.

Jaemin catches him with strong hands, holds him still, hands burning a line of fire down Donghyuck’s arms. Donghyuck looks up, lips parted in apology, and he catches the look in Jaemin’s eye a second before it fades into something innocent. Donghyuck doesn’t know how to describe it, that little look in his eye, but Jaemin is wolfish, more animalistic than anything, like he’s going to eat Donghyuck alive the moment he has a chance to pounce. Jaemin can try—Donghyuck would actually like to see Jaemin try and play his game. The longer Donghyuck looks at him and the longer Jaemin looks right back at him, eyes half-lidded and filled with a confidence that matches his own, the more Donghyuck thinks that Jaemin might actually be good at playing his game. 

And no one plays a game to lose, do they? 

Donghyuck plays to win, and he likes to win—he’s always liked things he’s good at. And Donghyuck _always_ wins. Always. Jaemin has got something competitive about him though, like he’s someone who doesn’t lose easily. Maybe he’ll give Donghyuck a run for his money, but that makes victory all the more mouth watering, doesn’t it? 

Victory. 

Like all things, a game can only end in one of two ways. And the end is always the most important part, more interesting than all that comes in the middle, don’t you think? War is the same. And the world is always at war. You cannot have peace without war, Donghyuck’s grandfather would sometimes say. A battle of wills, power against power and man against man, all for what? For peace? And what is peace but simply a time of mutual exhaustion, a time of preparation? _For power._ For man to rule in a rotten kingdom written in the blood of man. Kingdoms fall and crowns are pried from bloodied hands. Champions rule like kings until someone stronger, someone faster, someone sharper is born. The winner stands, and the loser falls. Survival of the fittest. Simple. Games and wars are simple. It’s all the same. What does it matter if you don’t like it?

Just pray that you win. 

Donghyuck doesn’t think he could lose his own game, but this is also the first time he’s played it with Na Jaemin. 

In hindsight, Donghyuck thinks he should have been a little more careful.

Reality comes crashing down on Donghyuck again the second he feels Jaemin’s hands slide down to his waist, lightly holding him by his hips, drawing him back to the boy in front of him. Donghyuck arches a brow at him, and Jaemin smiles greasily, dropping his hands and backing away an inch. Donghyuck thinks it’s easier to breathe like this, Jaemin out of his space, out of his head. 

“What fraternity are you rushing?” Jaemin asks, adding on as an afterthought, “Unless you’re already a part of a house?”

“I’m a first year.” Donghyuck says carefully, studying Jaemin’s facial expression, continuing when it doesn’t dim. “Kappa Theta Pi.”

“Oh.” Jaemin’s eyes light up and he laughs a little, shoulders rising and falling in a quick motion, and the sound is almost mocking, just an inch short of condescending, and Donghyuck doesn’t miss it. The look in Jaemin’s eyes is unmistakable. Cunning. Calculating. “You’re going to be a Kappa.”

Donghyuck feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

Jaemin has been studying him this whole time. 

Maybe Jaemin is more than the picture perfect main character. Maybe he is something more like the complicated, “more than what meets the eye” side character that the other characters write off as someone simple-minded, possessing a single personality trait. Could he be the character that the anti-hero underestimates the most? The sidekick that takes him down when push comes to shove. Jaemin is all sharp words and cutting edges, sugar coated and painted pink. Saccharine and honeyed words laced with something bitter. Something strong and abrasive. Something like poison. 

Jaemin smiles and he shines fiercely. “That makes this all the more fun.”

Donghyuck agrees more than Jaemin knows—though maybe he and Jaemin are thinking of two different things. 

(And maybe they’re thinking the same thing. Maybe they’re more alike than Donghyuck thought.)

“Makes what fun?”

“Nothing to worry about.” Jaemin shakes his head, following Donghyuck’s adam’s apple with his eyes as Donghyuck downs his drink in one quick motion, tilting his head back. Donghyuck picks up another one as soon as the alcohol burns down his throat. He’s going to need more if he’s going to continue to exist in Jaemin’s space and fight the instinct to take off his clothes and drop to his knees. “You’ll find out on your own soon enough.”

And even after Jaemin’s friend comes up to him and drags him across the room to a small group of boys, Donghyuck feels the prickling sensation of eyes on him.

Donghyuck likes to think that he’s always been a predator, but Jaemin makes him feel like he’s being preyed upon.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“I thought I told you to stay away from Sigma Nu.” 

Donghyuck turns around, eyes widening in surprise and a hint of concern as he takes in a tipsy and starry eyed Kim Doyoung—post-make out if his swollen lips and the big, purple hickey blossoming under his jaw are anything to go by. Donghyuck arches a brow, question on his lips, but he swallows it, not bothering to comment on Doyoung’s appearance to save himself the trouble.

“Doyoung hyung? Didn’t think you liked parties.” Donghyuck hums. “What are you talking about?” 

“Hyuck, I’m a frat boy. Getting shitfaced on Friday nights is a part of my personality.” Doyoung laughs, lazily placing his hand on Donghyuck’s head like he was going to pat him but changed his mind halfway. And Doyoung arches a brow, eyes narrowed, tilting his head in the direction Jaemin walked off. “That boy you talked to earlier.” 

“Jaemin?” Donghyuck takes a sip of his long forgotten drink, and he immediately winces at the burn of alcohol, _a lot_ of it. How much alcohol did they pour into this for it to burn like this? How did he not notice it earlier? Doyoung at least has the decency to lightly slap at his back as he coughs through it. Donghyuck wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes watery. “What about him?”

“That boy got a bid from Sigma Nu. Maybe if you thought with your head and not your dick—don’t try it, Donghyuck, I know that look on your face. I was a stupid first year at one point too. I was stupid up until my second year probably.” Doyoung sighed, looking more stressed out the longer he talks to him. Doyoung blinks, looking around, and he looks like he’s forgotten where he was going with this. Donghyuck eyes him carefully; how much did Doyoung drink? “What was I saying? Oh. What I’m saying is that I told you to stay away from Sigma Nu.” 

Donghyuck makes a face, but Doyoung is quick to cut him off, shaking his head in drunken self-righteousness. Doyoung turns him around by the shoulders and points across the room, wrinkling his nose as he bobs his hand up and down in the direction of a good looking man—probably the Jung Jaehyun that Doyoung hates with such a burning passion, though at this point Donghyuck thinks Jungwoo was telling the truth and Doyoung just has a secret history with him—and Jaemin talking to each other. 

Doyoung scoffs when Jaemin says something that makes Jaehyun laugh, head thrown back, smile blinding and dimples marking his cheeks. “He’s been making that ‘You’re so cool, Jaehyun hyung. I want to kiss your ass and take shots and play pong with you and do anything you ask and be just like you’ face at Yoonoh the whole night.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t question why Doyoung called Jaehyun _Yoonoh_ , only noting it in his head and studying his facial expression as he burns holes in the back of Jaehyun’s head. Jaehyun looks back for a second, as if sensing that someone was looking at him, and they make eye contact for a split second that makes even Donghyuck’s skin tingle. _Okay_ , Donghyuck thinks, something is totally up with Doyoung and Jung Jaehyun. Exes who had a bad break up, maybe? 

Something crosses Doyoung’s face, but it’s gone as suddenly as it appeared. Doyoung kills the moment with his own will, raising his eyebrows—challenging, daring Jaehyun to do something. Donghyuck’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of them like he’s watching a chess match, holding his breath as he ponders to himself what move the player will make. Jaehyun doesn’t plan on making a move any time soon, Donghyuck realizes that much. Jaehyun probably would have taken the challenge once upon a time, but things are different now, aren’t they? Jaehyun looks away, and Donghyuck watches Doyoung’s facial expression harden. Doyoung downs his drink in one quick motion, a grimace marring his face as the fire burns a trail down his throat, and he slams his red solo cup on the counter with far more force than necessary. 

Jaehyun pats Jaemin’s head affectionately, laughing heartily again, and the action only makes Doyoung scoff again, bitterness rolling off of him in crashing waves. “Just looking at him pisses me off.”

“Who?” Donghyuck asks, “Jaemin or Jaehyun?”

“Both.” Doyoung grits his teeth, turning away and looking Donghyuck in the eye, suddenly looking more sober than he has all night. There is an emotion difficult to read in Doyoung’s eyes, something far more personal than Donghyuck likes to see in someone’s eyes, but Donghyuck likens it to something similar to sadness. “That boy looks like a little Jung Jaehyun in the making. Do as I say this one time and stay away from him, Donghyuck, for your own good.” 

As Doyoung wanders off to find another drink, saying something about feeling “too sober to do this right now”, Donghyuck takes the chance to down another drink himself and fall into the moving sea of bodies at the heart of the house. Bass of some EDM song pounding in his ears, Donghyuck finds someone good looking to sway his hips against, rough breathing in his ear and hands snaking under his shirt, and he locks Doyoung’s words away in his head for another night.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s not as hard as Donghyuck thought to stay away from Jaemin. For a time, at least. 

Jaemin is under another major, probably a different department altogether, and they only share a single introductory course that all first years have to take. It’s not a big class, really, around 30 students, maybe close to 40, and in comparison to the lecture hall that Donghyuck had in the morning, it almost feels too small—no room to run and no place to hide. 

Donghyuck lays eyes on Jaemin the moment he lazes into the room, backpack hanging off one shoulder and lollipop in his hand, holding it to his lips. Jaemin is smiling at something his friend said and playing with a pen, and he sits close to the front of the room, his friend from the party to his right. Jaemin looks up like he feels Donghyuck’s eyes on him and his smile falters for a moment, something particularly brilliant crossing his face as recognition lights a fuse in his eyes. Donghyuck catches how he looks down at the space to his side and back at Donghyuck, arching a brow like he’s asking him to sit. 

For a moment, Donghyuck stills and considers doing it, considers making a beeline to Jaemin and claiming his place at his side, maybe strike up some conversation, turn up the charm and flirt his way into sharing numbers. Easy. Donghyuck considers it. It’s a little boring though, isn’t it? And like that, the moment passes. Donghyuck smirks, looks Jaemin in the eye and sucks harder on his lollipop, hollowing his cheeks the slightest and running the lollipop flat against his tongue if only to scandalize anyone who is also watching him, and he stalks off to the back of the room. 

Donghyuck doesn’t bother to look at Jaemin’s reaction. 

Anyone would fall into that little trap. 

The boy who Donghyuck slides up beside laughs as soon as Donghyuck sits down, lollipop still in his mouth and shamelessness probably rolling off of him in waves. 

“Hi. I’m Lee Donghyuck.” Donghyuck ducks his head in a half-bow, blood rushing to his ears now that the adrenaline has faded and he realizes that at least half of the class probably watched him do that and now think he’s some kind of exhibitionist—not that he isn’t, but that’s a conversation for a different day, isn’t it? 

“First day of classes and you’re already eye-fucking someone, huh? Bold, I like it.” The boy laughs, looking half-impressed and half-grossed out, but he sticks out his hand. “I’m Huang Renjun.”

Donghyuck blushes at how simply Renjun puts it, facing burning with embarrassment and taking his hand in a quick handshake.

Donghyuck runs a hand through his hair as he presses back into his chair, head lolling to the side. “Something like that.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows, eyes wide and smile fox-like, cunning and sharp at the corners. He looks like he has something to say, but he bites his tongue as if wondering if he should say it or not. Personally Donghyuck hopes that he does—if only to draw the conversation on a little longer. Donghyuck could use a friend or two if he fucks up. (And Donghyuck likes the sound of his voice.) 

If Donghyuck didn’t have his eye on Jaemin, maybe Donghyuck would have chosen Renjun to be his first boy toy. The first one in university, anyway. Renjun has this look in his eyes; something about him that is particularly easy-going; maybe it’s how he’s quick to look Donghyuck in the eye and tease him as if they’ve known each other for years, plain words and easy truths. 

Renjun is different from Jaemin, contrasting in both looks and personality as far as Donghyuck knows, but Donghyuck doesn’t think he has ever had a type. Only a kink for corruption. 

Contemplative for a minute, trying to read him, Renjun looks back and forth between Donghyuck and Jaemin, a smirk rising on his lips.

“One night stand?” 

Donghyuck thinks about the question, weighing his options, and Donghyuck chooses to tell half the truth, biting his lollipop. The lollipop stick hangs out of the corner of his mouth and the hard candy makes a clacking sound against his teeth as he talks.

“No.” Donghyuck shakes his head. Renjun narrows his eyes at him, not believing a word that comes from his mouth, and Donghyuck raises his hands in surrender, grinning at Renjun. “I haven’t fucked him. Scout’s honor.” 

“Don’t tell me you were a fucking Boy Scout.” Renjun scoffs. “I call bullshit.”

“I was.” 

“You’re a dirty liar.” 

Donghyuck laughs at that, nose scrunching up and eyes crinkling into half moons. Some students around them turn to look at him, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. Donghyuck almost doesn’t believe his ears, mouth parted in fake indignance. “You’ve known me for two minutes and you’re already calling me a dirty liar?”

A smile plays on Renjun’s lips, half teasing. “I wasn’t the one eye-fucking some innocent boy in front of the class.”

Donghyuck’s jaw drops, breathy laughter falling from his lips as he looks around them, eyes quickly scanning the room in case anyone is listening. “How come he’s an innocent boy and I’m a dirty liar?” 

“I didn’t see _him_ sucking off a lollipop now did I?” Renjun notes—he’s not going to allow Donghyuck to live that down, is he? And Renjun eyes narrow again, sharp and invasive, like he knows everything about Donghyuck from a single reading. Renjun’s eyes dart up and down Donghyuck’s body like he has x-ray vision and can see the fading pinks and reds and purples through Donghyuck’s clothes, like he can see Donghyuck’s lies through his skin. Renjun’s smile is knowing. “ _You_ , on the other hand… You’re something.”

Renjun’s voice is smooth, flowing like water, unblinking as he looks Donghyuck in the eye and reads him like a book. 

“You look like someone who lies like it’s as easy as breathing.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t like feeling like he’s easy to read—and he hates that Renjun is right about him more than anything. 

The professor strides in as Donghyuck shoots a pointed glare at Renjun, and Renjun, teasing again, sticks out his tongue at him.

It is the truth though that Donghyuck hasn’t fucked Jaemin. _Though I wouldn’t say no_ , Donghyuck thinks with a smirk as he looks at Jaemin’s back, t-shirt splayed across strong looking shoulders. 

Jaemin only has to ask. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And it’s at another frat party that Donghyuck talks to Jaemin again, though really it’s Jaemin who talks to him.

They seem to run into each other a lot at frat parties, don’t they? Like a chanced meeting, a stroke of fate under ultraviolet lights, two boys standing on carpets stained with booze and age old vomit and hearts pounding to the bass of a loud dance song.

“Don’t drink that.” 

Donghyuck looks up, kohl-lined eyes cutting across the plastic rim of his cup, the edge just barely touching his lips, and he lowers it on instinct, wetting his lips and arching a brow as he looks Jaemin up and down. Jaemin looks good, Donghyuck thinks through his half drunken haze, watching the lights flash around Jaemin, painting shadows and shades of purple on his skin. “What?” 

Jaemin nods at the red solo cup in Donghyuck’s hand, arms crossed as if he couldn’t understand what Donghyuck didn’t understand. He says it slower this time, that same hardened look in his eyes, “Don’t. Drink. That.” 

Donghyuck’s mouth tilts into a lopsided grin, head still in the clouds from the shots he took early in the night. Something about the look on Jaemin’s face makes him laugh, and he chuckles into his closed fist. “You tellin' me to _not_ drink a good drink?” 

Not a single ghost of a smile graces Jaemin’s lips.

“I’m telling you to not drink a drugged drink.”

Donghyuck’s smile falls, and he suddenly feels more sober than he has all night.

Jaemin continues without waiting for Donghyuck to catch up, talking slowly and looking around them, eyes pinned on someone past Donghyuck’s shoulder. Jaemin’s shoulders look tense. “I was watching you dance, and some bastard spiked it when you looked away.”

Donghyuck pointedly doesn’t think about the fact that Jaemin so easily admits to watching him dance, not a hint of shame on his face, like it’s something completely normal. Donghyuck only thanks his lucky stars and whatever goddess is looking after him that _someone_ —Jaemin or not-Jaemin—had an eye on him. 

“Oh.” Donghyuck says slowly, mouth going dry and half-lidded eyes staring blankly into the clear waters of his drink, mind trying to catch up with what Jaemin is saying. For a moment Donghyuck thinks about what he should do with his drink; he can’t just place it on a table or the counter because he’s seen a boy pick up someone’s forgotten drink and down it without a second thought like it was his own. Jaemin looks like he can hear Donghyuck’s thoughts—is he thinking out loud?—and takes the drink from him and pours it into a potted plant.

Oh. Good thinking.

Donghyuck looks around him, trying to think back on who he was dancing around, but he was a lot more drunk than he is now. The last one, two, three hours are a little hazy, only the corners of a picture that Donghyuck doesn’t really remember taking, out of focus and faces rubbed off. “Who was it?”

Jaemin’s eyes cut back to a point past Donghyuck, face growing stoic as he stares down a group of people in the corner of the room. “I know him. I think he lives in the same dormitory as me.”

Donghyuck follows Jaemin’s eyes and he picks him out on instinct, something about him that screams “I’m a low life who would spike someone’s drink”, and an ugly feeling simmers in Donghyuck’s gut the longer he looks at him. 

For a minute, Donghyuck considers letting it go, being the bigger person and looking the other way or whatever non-confrontational bullshit school teachers drilled into his head when he was a kid, but this isn’t a problem that can be solved by turning a blind eye. Donghyuck looks the boy up and down, studying how he holds himself, the hand he has shoved in his pocket and how his eyes seem to dart around the room lazily, and for a moment, he looks right at Donghyuck. The look on his face is one of a good-for-nothing dick, sly, so satisfied with himself after trying to drug an unknowing target. 

Donghyuck feels his hands close into fists, fight or flight instinct kicking in and choosing the former. It’s been a long time since he got into a fist fight, but Donghyuck thinks he’s still got it. Donghyuck turns to look at Jaemin, mouth turning up into a dark grin. “I’m going to beat the shit out of him.”

Jaemin arches a brow, looking a little hesitant to allow Donghyuck to stray from his side. “Alone?”

“What?” Donghyuck mirrors him, arching his own brow. The boy isn’t that much taller or more filled out than Donghyuck is, so he doesn’t really know if he should feel like he’s being underestimated. “You don’t think I can take him?”

Though Jaemin‘s smile is sure, like he knows Donghyuck can hold his own, there’s something in his eyes that Donghyuck can’t read. “It’s not that.”

“So what is it?” Donghyuck asks, tilting his head to the side and looking up at Jaemin from under his lashes. Donghyuck doesn’t really know what he wants Jaemin to say though; he doesn’t really know _what_ he wants from Jaemin. “Are you worried about me, Na Jaemin?”

But Jaemin looks at Donghyuck like he knows him inside and out—like he knows what Donghyuck wants to hear even if Donghyuck himself doesn’t. 

Jaemin answers easily, not missing a single beat. “Yes.”

Donghyuck hates how his body reacts to that single word, the voice inside his head swooning and singing of cliches and how smooth Jaemin’s voice sounds when he talks like that.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not my first fight.” Donghyuck says slowly, blinking rapidly and stupid heart making a mess in his chest, pounding against his ribcage. Donghyuck kicks at the stained carpet, avoiding Jaemin’s eyes for a moment so he can _think—_ God, he can’t fucking think when Jaemin looks at him like that. Donghyuck scratches the back of his head, clearing his throat, “If it will make you feel better, you can come and watch me kick the bastard’s ass.” 

And maybe Donghyuck knows what Jaemin wants to hear too.

Jaemin grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, “Since when did you care about what would make me feel better?”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes, but his face burns, and he prays the dark lighting hides the blush blossoming on his cheeks. “Don’t push your luck, Na Jaemin.

Jaemin shakes his head with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender, and he motions for Donghyuck to go on, following after him.

“Oh, and—Uh, Jaemin.” Donghyuck looks back, worrying at his lip for a moment, and as sincerely as he can, he says his thanks. “Thank you. For looking out for me and all.” 

A slow smile blossoms on Jaemin’s lips, and even in the hazy, dark room, he looks breathtaking.

All the alcohol and the pounding bass of the music that shakes the walls, stupid lights flashing around them and casting a halo of ultraviolet light above Jaemin's head, and the bodies moving around him, and the liquid fire that burns through his veins and feels like courage—all of that is drowned out, and all Donghyuck can focus on, all he can think about, is how much he wants to kiss Jaemin on the mouth _._

“You going soft on me, Lee Donghyuck?” 

God, Donghyuck really, really wants to kiss him. 

Donghyuck catches the implications in Jaemin’s voice and the light in his eyes that looks too much like hope, and what Jaemin is really asking is a little different, a little more involvement than Donghyuck likes. 

And back in high school Donghyuck was called a lot of things, really, but he would be damned if he was called easy. Playing hard to get is an art, after all, and Donghyuck is a master at it. 

Jaemin would have to work harder than that.

Donghyuck smirks, looking forward again and talking more to himself than to Jaemin, but he knows Jaemin is listening. 

“In your dreams, lover boy.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Psychological warfare is something in a category of its own, but Donghyuck thinks he likes this kind of thing too. The boy knows he’s coming, but he doesn’t realize Donghyuck is actually going to lay a hand on him until it’s too late. Donghyuck’s body moves like water, smooth and crashing, hard knuckles colliding with the boy’s face in a quick motion, bruising skin and drawing out pained intakes of breath. The boy is strong, Donghyuck will admit that, but his movements are slow and sloppy, and Donghyuck knows that he’s going to walk out of this easily.

And nothing will convince half-sober nineteen and twenty-something-year-olds to take a break from grinding and taking shots off of each other’s body like a fist fight, Donghyuck thinks to himself as he dodges an undercut. A circle of nobodies closes in around him, mumbles of his name rising through alcohol tainted breath, and Jaemin is somewhere in his peripheral, lost in the haze of phone cameras and choruses of “ _ooh”_ s, but inexplicably, Donghyuck can only feel the weight of Jaemin’s eyes on him. 

Jaemin is probably to his right, out of his line of vision but close enough to make his presence known, arms crossed and head tilted to the side as his eyes run down the lines of Donghyuck’s body. Donghyuck can feel how Jaemin follows the smooth motions of his hands, eyes trained on the blood that stains his lips and the broken skin of his knuckles.

Donghyuck loses all feeling after that, focused only on dodging and swinging, taking advantage of momentary lapses in control, a split second that the boy takes to catch his breath, pounding his fist into the boy’s face until someone shouts his name—Doyoung hyung? Or is it Jungwoo hyung? Maybe it’s Jung Jaehyun. And suddenly someone—more than one someone? How many hands are on him?—is holding him back, catching his shaking fists and prying him off of the bruised and bloodied boy under him. 

Donghyuck spits on him. 

“ _Don’t try that again._ ”

Someone takes him to the bathroom after that, an “I can take care of him” that sounds far away, and Donghyuck follows easily, feeling the pain in his hands now that they’re not closed into tight fists.

It’s a little blurry, Donghyuck thinks, the aftermath of a fist fight, of explosive violence that you didn’t really know you had in you—like his body is trying to catch up to what he’s done, mind both racing and completely still, frozen in place. Maybe his mind is still back there, still pounding that boy into the ground with fists that don’t look like his own, all smooth movement and aggressive force. Blood rushing to his hands, to his arms, to his abdomen, and his thighs, searching for cracks in his walls and trying to patch him up. The aftermath is always more draining than the fight, Donghyuck thinks, the world looking a little more tilted like this, torn and distorted around the edges. 

Donghyuck closes his eyes as soon as he’s sat on the closed lid of the toilet, someone crouching in front of him and looking at him up and down, calculating the damage done, and Donghyuck hangs his head, a hollow sound ringing in his ears and echoing through his aching body. 

It kind of hurts to breathe. His breaths come out shallow and ragged, tired after fighting through sandpaper lungs.

Donghyuck barely feels the sting of alcohol being pressed to his broken skin. His mind is a little too far away to acknowledge the pain, the burn of the antiseptic as it sinks into his skin, like liquid fire poured into his blood. Donghyuck doesn’t flinch when the cotton pad is pressed harder into his wound, a whisper of “This might hurt.” falling from lips he doesn’t see.

It doesn’t hurt at all.

Donghyuck doesn’t know how long they stay like that, his eyes closed, someone’s eyes on him, patching him up with cotton balls and bandages, cleans the blood from his split lip, wiping his arms and wrists down with warm water, washing away the blood of a boy whose name he still doesn’t know. 

Not a single word is said for a long time. 

The house still shakes, the night moving on and forgetting all about Donghyuck, and the walls look less trustworthy from inside this small room. Someone knocks on the door, shouting at them, saying something about not fucking in his bathroom. 

Donghyuck has half the mind to smirk.

“So,” someone says.

Oh, Donghyuck thinks, he knows that voice. 

It was Jaemin all along.

Donghyuck doesn’t know why that knowledge draws him back to reality so easily. 

“Uh...” Jaemin starts slowly, holding Donghyuck’s hand and swiping his thumb softly across his bandaged knuckles. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit.” 

Jaemin’s touch is gone and Donghyuck can sense him moving. 

“You know,” Jaemin says. “I’m usually a pacifist, but that was hot.”

Donghyuck’s eyes flutter open, blinking slowly, not bothering to lift his head. Jaemin is sat cross legged in front of Donghyuck, back pressed against the wall and hands in his lap, soft stare and sharp eyes, studying him carefully. A small smile sits on Jaemin’s lips. Donghyuck moves out from under the shadows of his bangs, looking up and facing the world again. 

“Do you want me to punch you in the face too?”

“That would be so sexy.”

Donghyuck grins, rolling his eyes although breathy laughter rakes through his body.

“Don’t make me laugh, idiot, my ribs hurt.” Donghyuck sits back, bones aching at the movement, and Donghyuck swallows the pain and presses himself against the cold porcelain. Donghyuck looks under his shirt, hiking it up in one swift motion, only far enough to assess how bad it is. Not half bad. Not good, though. “Bastard got me more times than I thought.”

Jaemin eyes the dark bruises that have started to color Donghyuck’s side, something flashing on his face for a moment, and he looks at Donghyuck like he’s looking at something at a zoo, curious, coming too close to the glass. 

“You won, though.”

“I don’t lose.”

Donghyuck lowers his shirt again.

“Come on,” Jaemin rises, holding out his hand. “I’ll walk you home.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_(_ “Stay away from him, Donghyuck, for your own good.” _)_

Donghyuck doesn’t think about Doyoung’s words as Jaemin walks him home, hands bandaged and holding a bag of frozen pineapple slices to his side. Jaemin draws him in by his hand, careful not to press too hard, and Donghyuck allows him to link their pinkies together. Donghyuck will think about them another night. 

Maybe. 

Maybe not.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Some things change after that. 

Some things don’t.

The following Monday, and all the days that come after that Monday, Donghyuck strides into class a little late, and he plops down in the chair beside Jaemin.

Renjun smirks at him from across the room and Donghyuck blows him a kiss. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Renjun sends him a text some days later in the middle of class. 

_do something about the sexual tension between u and ur boy toy plz. ur stinking up the classroom_

Donghyuck turns around and throws his pen at him. 

Renjun cackles.

_this is a nice pen_

_ur not getting it back_

_rly tho. fuck him already before i die breathing in ur horny air._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s not until the Greek row fundraiser a month later that Donghyuck realizes how bad it actually is. 

“A dunk tank?” Donghyuck laughs, not believing his eyes as he strides up to Sigma Nu’s stand. “Really?” 

Jaemin smiles, sat nice and pretty on the dunk tank seat, hair dripping wet and clothes sticking to his skin. “Really.” 

And Jaemin has the nerve to don a white muscle tee, now see-through and plastered against his body. If only to piss Donghyuck off more, Jaemin runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his forehead, smug smirk on his lips. 

The bastard knows he’s eye candy.

“You know,” Donghyuck starts as a thought comes to mind, taking the baseball that a boy hands to him and eyeing the target. Donghyuck says it conversationally, casually, “I think you would make more money if you were shirtless. Attracts more attention, you know?” 

Jaemin laughs, at a loss for words

Donghyuck snickers, tilts his head to the side and smiles prettily. “Don’t tell me you’re shy.”

“If you want me to take off my shirt, you can just say so, Donghyuck.” Jaemin arches a brow, hands already at the edge of his shirt. Jaemin is more obvious than he thinks he is. Though maybe he’s not trying to hide anything at all, toying with Donghyuck outright, stringing him up like a marionette doll and holding him in the palm of his hand. Jaemin grins, matching his fire. “You don’t have to say it in such a roundabout way.”

Donghyuck likes how bold Jaemin is.

It makes things more fun.

“Take off your shirt.” 

“What’s the magic word?”

Donghyuck thinks about it for a moment.

“Now.”

And Jaemin has this look on his face—God, does he like being bossed around? This air about him and this glimmer in his eyes that drives Donghyuck up the wall.

Jaemin holds the edge of his shirt and lifts it above his head, slowly, angling his body, acting like it’s a godforsaken strip tease, like he’s not in the middle of a public fundraiser, for God’s sake. The wet shirt clings to his skin for dear life as Jaemin frees himself of the stubborn thing, and Donghyuck follows it with his eyes as Jaemin tosses it away, hitting the pavement with a wet sound. Like a mop. 

Donghyuck eyes Jaemin carefully, following the lines and contours of Jaemin’s body. Long, dark lashes, slight Cupid's bow, little shadow under his adam’s apple, delicate slope of his collarbones, squared shoulders and hard lines of his abs. 

Not bad, Donghyuck thinks. Not bad at all. 

Jaemin’s abdomen looks like a fucking wash board. Donghyuck snorts under his breath at the thought. Dunk tank. Wash board. If Jaemin spins around in the dunk tank it’ll be like he’s in a washing machine— 

The sunlight shines in Donghyuck’s face and he sneezes.

“Bless you!” 

“Thank you.”

Jaemin chirps. “You’re welcome!”

Donghyuck rolls his shoulders and looks at Jaemin one last time, shaking his head and wetting his lips to hold back his laughter.

A dunk tank of all things. 

And in one smooth, practiced and perfected movement, Donghyuck draws his leg up, arms cradled and ball firm in his hand, and he narrows in on the red target. 

The ball cuts through the air like a missile and slams into the target with a loud crack.

Donghyuck holds his head high.

Bullseye. 

And Jaemin falls, arms out like wings, straight-faced like he’s grown bored of it, water splashing and painting the dry pavement a dark gray. 

Jung Jaehyun calls out from a ways away. “Don’t break my fucking dunk tank, kid.”

Jaemin rises from the water, wiping his face with his hands and folding his arms over the plastic rim, smiling like Donghyuck didn’t just dunk him mercilessly without a single warning.

“Good arm.” 

Donghyuck shrugs. “I played baseball in high school.” 

“Baseball?” Jaemin asks, and his voice lowers just the slightest, thoughtful. He runs his tongue along his teeth, canines flashing, smirking. “What position?” 

“Pitcher.” 

“That’s hot.” 

“I know.” Donghyuck says easily, looking Jaemin up and down shamelessly. Who could blame him for looking? Water drips from Jaemin’s hair to his naked skin, and Donghyuck follows a drop with his eyes, down the lines and planes of Jaemin’s body until it runs into the band of his shorts. 

Donghyuck looks up again, and Jaemin is already looking at him, brow arched and a self-satisfied smirk on his lips. Jaemin is like a flower growing toward the sun, blossoming prettily the more attention it is given. And Jaemin has _all_ of Donghyuck’s attention. Jaemin is so smug about it, so knowing. 

Donghyuck would dunk him again but it would only stroke Jaemin’s ego more. 

“I looked good in those uniforms.” 

And he did, really. Those pants made his ass look good and lined his hips and thighs incomparably.

“I think I still have it.” The corner of Donghyuck’s mouth rises. “Maybe I’ll try it on again for you.”

Hook, line, and sinker. 

A look crosses Jaemin’s face, eyes growing dark, and Donghyuck bites back a smirk. 

It’s always satisfying to know you hold all the cards, isn’t it?

“Look, there’s a line now.” Donghyuck says, looking across his shoulder at the long line forming. “I told you going shirtless would make you more money.” 

“Oh, how could I possibly thank you for your guidance?”

“I take cash.” Donghyuck shrugs. “Come by the Kappa booth later.”

Donghyuck waves a hand and he backs away, swaying his hips as he strides back to Kappa’s booth, and he can feel Jaemin’s eyes on him until he turns the corner around another stand. 

Easy, isn’t it?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jaemin doesn’t come by until later into the day, in the last minutes before the booths close down, the sun low in the sky and painting the world orange. 

Donghyuck doesn't like admitting that he was waiting for him.

“Kissing booth, huh?” Jaemin arches a brow as he stalks up to the booth, hair still dripping wet and hands shoved in his pockets. He has a shirt on again—thank you God for that small mercy, Donghyuck thinks—and a small towel hangs around his neck. He looks picture perfect, like some high school heartthrob after basketball practice or something just as cliche and unfailingly charming. Jaemin’s mouth tilts into a lopsided half-smile, and it’s equal parts cunning, almost canine, and sugary. Donghyuck thinks Jaemin probably tastes the same—bitter and saccharine, something like orange marmalade. 

“The other option was a date auction, but I told Doyoung hyung to try out a kissing booth this time.”

Jaemin looks at the booth like he’s looking at an ugly house, calculating eyes looking here and there, like he’s silently critiquing the color choices and thinking smart-ass thoughts in his head. And suddenly he’s looking right at Donghyuck. Jaemin hums, this little snobby look on his face as he looks Donghyuck up and down, sizing him up. 

“A kissing booth is a little cliche, don’t you think?” 

Donghyuck arches a brow, crossing his arms, willing to rattle off a list in favor of the kissing booth. “I like cliches.” 

“So do I.” Jaemin smiles easily, holding money between his pointer and middle finger. “How much can a twenty get me?”

Donghyuck edges closer and props his elbows on the counter, resting his chin on folded hands and looking at Jaemin with a lopsided smile. “How much do you want?” 

Jaemin grins like the cheshire cat. “Everything.”

Donghyuck ducks his head for a moment and hides from Jaemin’s glimmering eyes, smile small and shy because he knows Jaemin likes that smile the most. It makes him think he’s got the advantage. It makes him think he’s got Donghyuck around his pretty little finger. 

“Who would you like to kiss?” Donghyuck asks, looking around and avoiding Jaemin’s eyes. “Jungwoo hyung is here, and I think Xuxi is around too. Xiaojun and Yangyang—”

“You.”

Donghyuck has half the mind to act surprised, looking up with wide eyes. “What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

Jaemin smiles, easy and so sure of himself.

“Oh.” Donghyuck blinks rapidly and his eyes dart between the twenty dollar bill on the counter and the look on Jaemin’s face. Donghyuck worries at his lip for show. “Okay, fine.”

Jaemin moves fast. 

One hand in Donghyuck’s hair, snaking around to his nape and holding him still, and other hand pressed on the counter and holding his weight as he moves into Donghyuck’s space, suddenly all around him. Jaemin is close, and Donghyuck thinks it’s a little hard to breathe.

The first press of Jaemin’s lips on his is slow, careful. Testing the waters, is he? Taking it slow the first time around, like this is something he has dreamed about, something that should be done right.

It's a little heart melting.

Donghyuck bites at Jaemin’s bottom lip teasingly.

Jaemin takes the hint.

And after that, it’s all a little hazy. 

Jaemin’s hand moves to Donghyuck’s face, tilting his chin up and angling his mouth the way he wants it. Jaemin is a pushy kisser, commanding and impatient, taking what he wants, how he wants it, and Donghyuck—he’s not complaining, is he? Donghyuck has always been a passive kisser. Maybe that’s the only time he’s so pliant and submissive.

Donghyuck allows him to do as he pleases. Donghyuck allows Jaemin to bite at his bottom lip lightly, asking for Donghyuck to draw the line, and Donghyuck tosses the chalk, parting his lips for him and drawing him in by the front of his shirt. Donghyuck allows Jaemin to use him how he likes for as long as he likes, taking and taking, and taking again until he runs out of breath and breathes harshly against Donghyuck’s lips. 

A string of saliva connects them after they part.

It’s a little filthy, honestly, but it’s also hot. Mostly filthy, though.

Donghyuck was right. 

Jaemin does taste a little like orange marmalade. 

Donghyuck catches his breath, wondering what he should do with that information, and he eyes Jaemin as he slides his thumb across his bottom lip.

“It’s too bad Doyoung hyung didn’t go with the date auction.” Jaemin tilts his head to the side nonchalantly, wetting his lips and blinking slowly, pink tongue poking out of his mouth. The strong orange light of the lowering sun hits his dark eyes just right and colors them shades of warm honey. Donghyuck knows what he’s trying to do, trying to play innocent, unaffected, and maybe Donghyuck would have fallen for it if he wasn’t doing the same. 

Jaemin is cunning. 

And that makes him all the more satisfying to crush. 

Donghyuck takes the bait. “And what makes you say that?”

Jaemin smiles like the cheshire cat. 

“I would have taken you to a place I think you would have liked a lot.” 

“And how do you know what I like?”

“I pay a lot of attention to you, Donghyuck.”

Jaemin says it truthfully, Donghyuck can see it in his eyes, the honesty, and he doesn’t really know what to think of that.

Donghyuck doesn’t dare admit that he pays a lot of attention to Jaemin too.

Though maybe Jaemin knows it all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Good things don't last long.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Donghyuck?”

Donghyuck turns around and looks up at the sound of his name. “Jungwoo hyung?”

Jungwoo has his hands shoved in his pockets, standing in front of the kissing booth with a lipstick stain on his cheek, and Donghyuck is about to tease him about it, but there’s something grim about Jungwoo’s facial expression. Donghyuck realizes that it’s the first time he’s seen Jungwoo without a trace of a smile on his face.

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah, of course.” Donghyuck nods easily, slowly, and he eyes Jungwoo carefully as Jungwoo watches Jaemin walk away. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s about your friend.” Jungwoo doesn’t look him in the eye. And Donghyuck had a feeling it was about Jaemin, but hearing it come from Jungwoo makes it feel more grave—like there’s something that Jungwoo knows that Donghyuck doesn’t know. “Jaemin, right?”

Donghyuck feels his heart sink.

“I think there is something you should know.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A boy like Jaemin had to have his heart broken once or twice. Nothing personal. 

_Right?_

That’s just the way it goes. And nothing about Jaemin is different from the boys Donghyuck antagonized in high school. Jaemin is the same. It’s all the same. Not one is different from the other, not from the last one, not from the one that will come after.

Donghyuck knows this, lives by this, and _still_ , still Donghyuck feels like something is different; it’s something slight and impalpable; it’s something that changes everything. Donghyuck feels _guilty_. Is he still capable of that? Maybe he has gone soft, like Jaemin said, like he’s lost his touch, like he’s lost his fire.

Maybe all along someone should have broken Donghyuck’s heart, once or twice, three, four, five times until he was forced to look at himself in the eye and face the mistakes he has made, the mistake he is still making. No one has dared to try, no one has ever come close, and Donghyuck doesn’t think anyone ever could, but this is the first time he has faced a boy like Jaemin. 

The thing though, the thing that bothers Donghyuck the most about all of this, is that Donghyuck _knows_ why it feels different this time. 

Donghyuck has known since that night at the Sigma Nu party, and yet. And yet he’s as stubborn as a lion fighting death, baring its fangs and roaring with all its might, and _for what?_ Maybe if its roar is loud enough, strong enough, Heaven will wait another day, find another soul to take. Do you think you can run from Heaven? From Hell? Donghyuck thinks the lion is just like him. Coward. 

Don’t you know why your body grows old? It’s a part of living. You have to age, to grow old, and to die. Catching the old is easier than catching the young. 

Still the lion fights, old body running so desperately from time, and _for what?_ Pride. 

Donghyuck’s pride will kill him, he knows it. 

That’s not what Donghyuck is afraid of, though. 

Time is larger than life, after all. What can Donghyuck do about something he doesn’t truly understand? Donghyuck doesn’t care for philosophy, really. All Donghyuck knows is that time will move on as long as the stars burn and the world turns on its lonely axis and long after that. Life? Life isn’t lasting. All things are born to die. Life is the part that comes in the middle. A flat line connecting two points. Something like that. 

What are we talking about? 

Lions running from time.

Some things are more haunting than running out of time and facing Heaven and Hell. Some things hide amongst the living and slowly, suddenly, latch onto the unknowing, the innocent, the naive, but Donghyuck has always strayed far from safety, more curious than careful.

_What are you afraid of, Donghyuck?_

Maybe he’s afraid of himself. 

Donghyuck thinks that it’s all going to be alright, though. 

Maybe. 

Maybe not.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


This is the first time Donghyuck has actually liked the boy he’s trying to break.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jungwoo and Donghyuck sit facing the sun, cross-legged on the counter of the kissing booth. Donghyuck doesn’t know how much longer it will hold his and Jungwoo’s combined weight, but he doesn’t bother moving, doesn’t bother doing _anything_. Donghyuck just listens.

“Sigmas have a tradition.” Jungwoo starts slowly, carefully, as if saying it all at once might trigger a chain reaction. Saying it like this does the same thing though, Donghyuck thinks, as red flags wave in his head, sirens wailing, screaming _danger, danger, danger._ Proceed with caution. Locate an exit. Run for your life. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s something that they do as an initiation?” Jungwoo says, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Like a hazing of sorts.”

“Each year they choose one of the first years. Usually they choose the one who they like the most, you know, the one who stands out a little more than the others. That one usually becomes the head boy once his last year comes around.” Jungwoo muses, holding the words in his mouth and weighing them for a long minute before he lets them roll off his tongue, like it hurts him to have to say it. “And he… Long story short he has to make someone fall in love with him.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, only listening, and Jungwoo stares at some point along the horizon, maybe at the other frat houses packing up, maybe at the world moving around them, not like them, stuck in this suffocating conversation. 

“It has to be real.” Jungwoo whispers, and it’s like he’s talking more to himself than he is to Donghyuck. Maybe Jungwoo himself still hasn’t wrapped his head around it. “Real love.” 

“That doesn’t sound that bad, though?” Donghyuck mumbles after it looks like Jungwoo is done talking, arching a brow in question. What’s so bad about that? “He has to fall in love with someone. Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s not that, Donghyuck.” Jungwoo sighs, rubs his face with his hands, this tired look in his eyes as if he’s told this story a hundred times. Maybe he has. Someone had to fill in the blanks, right? Someone was bound to ask questions after Doyoung’s simple, plot-hole ridden advice “ _All the boys in Sigma Nu are good-for-nothing dicks.”_ Jungwoo’s shoulders droop more the longer he goes on, like each word is a weight on his back. “Someone has to fall in love with _him_. He doesn’t have to feel anything. It’s not—it doesn’t have to be real for him.” 

_It doesn’t have to be real._

“Oh.” 

Jungwoo looks at him like he’s saying _Oh_ is right. _You understand now, right, Donghyuck?_

“He has to win their trust. Sleep with them. And after that, he has to—” 

“Break their heart.” Donghyuck completes for him, irony staining his lips with a dark smile. “Break up with them. Ghost them. Act like nothing happened. Something like that?”

It’s the most cliche thing Donghyuck has heard of in his life, honestly, this initiation thing, like a plot from a teen romance movie, but Donghyuck thinks he’s not different from them, not above them. Birds of a feather flock together, right? Something like that. Maybe Donghyuck should have become a Sigma instead. 

Donghyuck would have done it easily.

Not ‘cause he was told to. Just ‘cause. Maybe ‘cause no one has told him not to.

Jungwoo nods stiffly. “Something like that.”

The clouds move a little to the side, and the orange sun shines down on Donghyuck’s face, pressing, like the world is asking him to _think._

_Think, stupid boy, think._

And something seems to fall into place. 

Donghyuck’s heart jumps into his throat, and he really wants to swallow his own words, he does, but he has to know.

“It was Jaehyun hyung, wasn’t it?” Donghyuck asks. And he prays that he’s not right. “They chose Jaehyun.”

Jungwoo sucks in a sharp breath and nods again.

Donghyuck’s shoulders start to droop too.

And he closes his eyes for a moment, resting his tired mind, and he asks another question that he probably knows the answer to.

“Who was it?”

“Doyoung hyung.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know if he really wants to ask more, but he does. Maybe out of curiosity. Maybe out of pity. Maybe for the hell of it. The simple act of learning things he already knows.

“What happened?”

“I was a first year, Jaehyun too, and Doyoung hyung was a second year. They started going out after some months. All of us had known about the tradition. And some of us had suspicions at first, Doyoung hyung especially, and he’s sharp, you know? Doyoung hyung is good at reading people, and he really believed in Jaehyun.” 

Jungwoo pouts his lips, picking at the edge of his jeans. “He really trusted him.” 

“How did Doyoung hyung find out?”

“Someone noticed that no one had gotten, you know, like, _Sigma-ed._ So much time had passed. Usually they do it quickly, carelessly.” 

Donghyuck takes in the information slowly. 

It makes him a little sick to his stomach—more so that he’s on the other side of the line. More so that he _understands._

There is something particularly pleasing about taking your time, Donghyuck thinks. Something satisfying about taking it slow. Something worthwhile about building up the tension, the anticipation. It’s a little like drawing out a rubber band as far as possible, holding your breath, waiting for the right moment, and painstakingly, at last, allowing it to hit your skin.

_Why?_ Donghyuck knows that’s the question someone will always ask. _Why do you do this?_

And Donghyuck doesn’t really know the answer to that question.

It’s just how he is.

“Someone was bound to start asking around. And word got back to Doyoung hyung.” Jungwoo sighs. “And like I said, he’s sharp. I don’t know how it really happened though, the break up and all.”

“Sometimes I tease him about Jaehyun for the hell of it, like when he told you to stay away from Sigmas, just to see his reaction, you know?” Jungwoo laughs to himself, and the sound is grating. Something about it is so bitter, so pitying. Donghyuck doesn’t think Doyoung needs Jungwoo’s pity. Doyoung doesn’t need anyone’s pity. “But I don’t think I have ever asked him how he really feels. I think Doyoung hyung still loves him—no, I know he does. You can see it in his eyes.” 

“It didn’t feel like...like it was fake. And I don’t think it was fake. Not completely. I don’t know if it was always real, or if it faded, or if it was fake at first and real at the end, but at some point, I know that Jaehyun really, really loved him.” 

Jungwoo draws his knees up, resting his head on his folded arms. 

“Once upon a time what Jaehyun and Doyoung hyung had was real.”

Donghyuck catches himself hoping that Jungwoo is right. 

“How do you know?”

“You know how sometimes you look at two strangers on the bus or at the library and you just know from that single glance that they’re more than friends? That they’re in love? It was something like that.” 

Donghyuck thinks his heart almost hurts for them.

Jungwoo smiles to himself, breathing out an airy chuckle as he thinks back on the good times. “Jaehyun would look at Doyoung hyung like he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.” 

“And Jaehyun isn’t a bad person.” Jungwoo says quickly, as if suddenly realizing that Donghyuck may be thinking poorly of Jaehyun. Donghyuck wasn’t. Donghyuck wasn’t thinking anything of Jaehyun, really. Only that he should hurt two times for hurting Doyoung once. “It was shitty of him to go along with it, but he’s not like that.”

_Not like that._ Donghyuck thinks to himself. Not like _what?_ Like Donghyuck?

“Jaehyun has always been kind. One of the most easy going guys I know. He has a good heart.” Jungwoo admits. And pity laces his voice. Jungwoo pities the both of them, doesn’t he? Doyoung and Jaehyun both. “He isn’t the kind of person who would hurt someone like that for the hell of it.”

Donghyuck is. 

“Do you think that’s why it was drawn out for so long?” Donghyuck asks. It’s not the time to tell Jungwoo that he’s not the kid Jungwoo thinks he is. Donghyuck doesn’t think that time will come at all. “Because Jaehyun hyung didn’t want to hurt Doyoung hyung?” 

Jungwoo nods. 

“I think he was hoping that he could avoid it in some way. Maybe he thought that he could, that his house would forget about it after some time or that they would let him off the hook. Maybe he thought that if he was patient, it would all work out.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work out though, does it?” 

“No. Sometimes it doesn’t.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t move for a long time, body turning to stone, and the only sign he’s still alive is the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes shallowly. Donghyuck’s mind races to think, trying to wrap his head around what it is that is bothering him so much _. Think, stupid boy, think._ Not a single thought that crosses his mind looks bright. Donghyuck only looks up into the clouds, eyes focused on the orange sun until it burns, until his throat grows tight and drops of bitterness line his lashes. 

Jungwoo doesn’t press him.

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything more until the sun has completely lowered under the horizon, drawing down the shades as it goes, the sky colored in light purples fading to dark blues.

“You think they chose Jaemin, don’t you?” 

Jungwoo doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look Donghyuck in the eye, doesn’t move from his position, but his silence weighs heavy on his shoulders. Donghyuck knows that sometimes silence means more than words.

Donghyuck doesn’t know why he asks if he already knows the answer. 

Maybe in hopes that he’s mistaken, that his mind has run too far and he’s thinking useless, outrageous thoughts.

“Do you think he’s doing the same thing to me?”

Donghyuck thinks that if he listens closely, a little part of him is praying quietly that Jungwoo says no. 

_No, Donghyuck. I don’t think Jaemin is trying to break your heart._

Please say no.

“I don’t know, Hyuck.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And this is the first time that someone is trying to break _him_. 

Maybe Donghyuck isn’t as alone as he thinks. 

Jaemin could be just as rotten as he is.

Donghyuck doesn’t know why the thought makes his heart ache.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And Donghyuck avoids Jaemin for a long time after that conversation. 

Jaemin knows something is off, Donghyuck is sure of it, if Jaemin’s double, triple texts and growing number of missed calls mean anything. It comes to a point that Jaemin completely stops texting and calling him. Donghyuck turns off his phone sometime after catching himself sitting and waiting for a text. 

Donghyuck is the one avoiding Jaemin, so why does it hurt so much when Jaemin stops trying? 

Donghyuck stops going to the class they share too if only to go another day without seeing Jaemin’s face and save himself the headache. 

Renjun texts Donghyuck too at some point and asks him if he’s okay. In his own way.

_u fucked up didn’t u?_

Donghyuck texts back a simple _No._

A minute passes before his phone lights up again with a notification from Renjun. 

The text reads _dirty liar._

Donghyuck doesn’t text him back.

Renjun knows not to press him and instead sends him his notes.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It all comes to a boiling point at some sorority that Donghyuck has forgotten the name of’s Halloween party. 

Donghyuck comes to the party late, just an hour short of midnight, but that’s when it’s the most interesting, isn’t it? There’s something particularly freeing about walking into a house filled with people and knowing that half of them are already too drunk to hold a conversation, or do anything but wave lazily and call your name from across the house. Donghyuck isn’t really in the mood for conversation and he takes it as a small mercy when Doyoung and Jungwoo and the Kappas only sloppily punch him in the shoulder or pat his head when they notice him, all of them hanging out on the balcony, lounging around on lawn chairs and passing around a joint. 

They ask him if he wants to join the circle but Donghyuck shakes his head and pretends that he doesn’t notice how Xiaojun arches a brow, mumbling something slowly about how Donghyuck hasn’t said no to pot before. 

Xuxi is the only one who looks sober, probably the driver of the night, and he waves a hand at Donghyuck, motioning him to come closer. Xuxi pats his lap, a silent question, and Donghyuck doesn’t think twice about it, settling on Xuxi’s thighs comfortably and tossing an arm around his shoulders. Xuxi is dressed up as some kind of Greek god, in a white toga and not much else, toned arms and chest glistening in the low light, skin glittering in Donghyuck’s tired eyes. And Donghyuck is probably too underdressed to be sitting on someone’s lap like this, only having the thin fabric of Xuxi’s toga and his large white dress shirt and loose silk shorts to protect his skin from the cold night air and the intense heat rolling off of Xuxi’s skin, but he doesn’t find it in himself to care. 

Donghyuck just hopes Xuxi doesn’t pop a boner. Donghyuck actually likes Xuxi, taking a liking to his puppy like personality the moment he walked into the room on the first day of Rush, and he thinks the boy is too good for this world, so Donghyuck would hate to have to cross out “big puppy” and write in “horny bastard” in Xuxi’s profile in his head. 

By some stroke of luck, or maybe Xuxi is really too kind to take advantage of anyone, Xuxi looks completely nonchalant and he barely pays attention to Donghyuck, slipping back into conversation with the boys like nothing happened. Xuxi doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest when Donghyuck moves around a little on his lap to find a comfortable position, drawing his legs up and folding them, shins pressed against the armrest of the chair. Xuxi winds his right arm around Donghyuck’s back, holding onto his hip, and drapes his other arm across Donghyuck’s thighs.

“You alright, Hyuck?” Xuxi asks him after a while, absentmindedly tapping a beat on his skin, and his voice is only loud enough for Donghyuck to hear although none of the boys are paying any attention to them. “You’re really quiet today.”

Donghyuck dodges the question with another question. “I’m usually quiet, though?”

Xuxi picks at Donghyuck’s fake angel wings, wiping the gold glitter that comes off of them on Donghyuck’s skin and saying something about it looking like highlighter. Xuxi pins Donghyuck with a _come on_ look. “You know what I mean.”

“I know.” Donghyuck mumbles, coming closer to Xuxi for warmth. Something about Xuxi is comforting, disarming, and it makes Donghyuck soften up—like he’s lost some years and is back in middle school, naive and a little afraid of the world. Xuxi is kind, genuine, and sometimes it’s nice to have someone take care of you. Donghyuck allows Xuxi to take care of him, a comforting heat radiating from him and warming Donghyuck’s tired body. “Don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

Donghyuck lays his head on Xuxi’s shoulder, making himself small and silently asking for Xuxi to hold him closer. “Thank you for asking though, hyung, really.”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” Xuxi grins, big and bright, an existence like the sun. Donghyuck should add that to Xuxi’s profile: the sun in a body. “Frat boys do more than drink all night and sleep around, you know? We look out for each other, bro.”

Donghyuck has to crack a smile at the pride that drips from Xuxi’s voice. It’s the first time he has smiled all day, and it makes him feel lighter. “The world would be so cold without a frat boy calling me bro.”

And they stay like that for awhile, talking in soft voices about official frat boy vocabulary, and Donghyuck takes in the simple comfort of friendship and allows easy conversation to silence his storm of thoughts and Xuxi’s low, raspy voice to drown out the images of Jaemin in his head.

Donghyuck almost thinks it’s going to work until someone slides open the balcony door and calls his name.

“Donghyuck, can I talk to you?”

Shame colors Donghyuck’s skin, scolding his body for reacting to the sound of Jaemin’s voice, looking up at the speed of lightning, heart in his throat and hands growing clammy as he drinks in Na Jaemin in all his glory. 

The first thing that Donghyuck notices is that Jaemin is blonde now, hair bleached and stripped of its warm brown.

It’s a good look on Jaemin, how it contrasts with his skin and makes him look like he’s glowing.

Donghyuck kind of wants to suck him off.

More than that though, it’s a little bothersome that Donghyuck is dressed up as an angel and Jaemin is some take on the Devil, red horns on the top of his head and dressed in a dark red suit that makes him look taller than usual, shoulders wider and legs longer, and a black silk shirt with one, two, three, four useless buttons. 

It almost looks like they’re a couple.

Xuxi looks back and forth between Donghyuck and Jaemin, hold on him growing slack, and Donghyuck knows that Xuxi is thinking something similar. 

“Do you know him, Hyuck?” 

Donghyuck nods, but he doesn’t make any move to climb off of Xuxi’s lap, only sinking into his arms more and drawing away from Jaemin. 

Jaemin arches a brow, but he doesn’t move, only burning lasers at Xuxi’s hands on Donghyuck’s skin and saying his name again, more desperation in his voice than anything. “Donghyuck.”

Xuxi holds up a hand at that, placating. “Look, I don’t think he wants to talk to you right now.”

“It’s okay, Xuxi.” Donghyuck places a hand on Xuxi’s arm, silently asking him to lower his hand, and he rises to stand. Xuxi still looks unsure, but Donghyuck smiles at him warmly. “I’ll be fine.”

Xuxi looks at Jaemin for a moment, looking him up and down as if trying to imprint the image of him in his head in case something happens to Donghyuck, and the thought makes Donghyuck laugh under his breath. A big puppy trying to become a strong watch dog? Xuxi sighs, looking up at Donghyuck again, “Find me if you need a ride home, okay?” 

Donghyuck nods, blowing him a kiss, and following Jaemin into the house.

It doesn’t really click in Donghyuck’s head that he’s going to have to face Jaemin alone until Jaemin takes him into a quiet part of the house and stoically motions for him to go into a small room.

A confrontation in what looks like a sorority girl’s walk-in closet. 

God save his soul.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Jaemin slams the door shut as soon as Donghyuck strides in, the _click_ of the lock not going unnoticed by Donghyuck, but he doesn’t have time to acknowledge it because Jaemin is suddenly turning on him, facial expression stormy. “Okay, Lee Donghyuck, you’re going to tell me what’s up with you right now.”

“Oh, am I?” Donghyuck scoffs, vicious smirk on his mouth. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

Jaemin narrows his eyes, staring him down for a long moment in silence, but he doesn’t take the bait. “You avoid me for almost two weeks, you don’t go to class, you don’t answer my calls or texts, and the first time I see you is on someone’s lap?”

“I kiss you once and now I’m your property?” Donghyuck asks, raising his eyebrows at the accusation in Jaemin’s voice. “Me sitting on Xuxi’s lap has nothing to do with you. Me doing _anything_ has nothing to do with you, got it?”

Jaemin looks at him for a minute, quiet, and his voice dips, grave.

“Why are you acting like this?” 

The question triggers something bloody in Donghyuck and he can feel his patience rapidly running thin, his body turning into a ticking time bomb—he’s always been like this, Donghyuck thinks, always brimming, almost ripping at the seams, on the edge of exploding.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that, oh, I don’t know, I _am_ like this?”

Jaemin looks like he’s trying to talk to a child throwing a tantrum, and it pisses Donghyuck off more than he thought possible. Donghyuck doesn’t like being talked down to, moreso being handled like a child. “This is not how you actually are, Donghyuck. Don’t play dumb.”

Donghyuck narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t know anything about me.” 

Jaemin arches a brow, mouth tilting into a half-smile, almost a smirk if not so shaky, if Jaemin wasn’t looking at him with such patience. “Really?” 

“What? Do you actually think you know me?” 

“I think I know more about you than you’re comfortable with.”

Donghyuck hisses. “You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“Coming from you, that doesn’t hurt as much as you think it does.” Jaemin smiles, sugary, innocent, as if Donghyuck isn’t burning with rage in front of him—because of him. And still Jaemin maintains his composure, not a hair out of place nor a single flash of impatience in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you thought no one would catch onto your act.” 

Jaemin talks slowly, taking his time, drawing it out, pinpointing the moment Donghyuck’s eyes burn with shock, and he grins crookedly, self-satisfaction like a skin.

“Your fucked up game.” Jaemin spits. “That’s what you call it, right? A game.” 

Donghyuck falls silent, and Jaemin takes his silence as a chance to run his mouth, tone growing more and more challenging, more daring the longer he talks, inching into Donghyuck’s space like its his own. Donghyuck turns his head away, not having the stomach to look at him anymore, but Jaemin crowds him against the door, pressing his back into the wood and forcing him to listen. 

“I don’t know how you can win a game like that, but you can, can’t you, Donghyuck?” Jaemin’s voice lowers into a whisper. “And you always win.” 

“You’re not as untouchable as you think, Lee Donghyuck.” Jaemin giggles, eyes alight with something bone-chilling. Jaemin cups Donghyuck’s face, thumbing at a mole on his cheek. “You’re going to lose this time. And you know that, don’t you? I know you do. I can see it in your eyes. You’re afraid of me.”

_Afraid?_

Donghyuck feels anger run red hot through his veins, breathing growing erratic and his chest rising and falling in a quick staccato. Rage is a good motivator, as good as glory, and Donghyuck feels the hunger for victory—feels it scratch at his insides and fight its way into his bloodstream, tainting his blood black, and Donghyuck’s instincts fall to it bit by bit, motion by motion, until he’s lost control of his own body. It makes his hands shake, fury burning down to the tips of his fingers, and Donghyuck fists the fabric of his shirt, drags his hands down his thighs, blunt nails digging into his own skin. Donghyuck’s lungs scream for air but he holds his breath stubbornly, just long enough to block out the rage coursing through his veins and focus on the pain, just long enough for Donghyuck to force his body into submission.

Donghyuck breathes in shakily, body drawn tight and fists shaking at his sides.

“Why are you being so quiet, baby?” Jaemin places a finger under Donghyuck’s chin and tilts his face up, voice dripping with something like fake pity—making a show of mocking him and drinking in his humiliation. Donghyuck slaps his hand away, but the action is like adding gasoline into a fire, and Jaemin _burns._ “Cat got your tongue?”

Donghyuck runs out of patience, boiling to a melting point, and Donghyuck spits venom. “ _Rot in Hell._ ”

And it all crashes and burns. 

Jaemin is in his space again, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels like a show of force, bruising and dominating—and Donghyuck’s traitorous body reacts to it desperately, chasing after Jaemin’s lips after he draws back, holding him still by the silver chain hanging from his neck. Jaemin looks like he’s won the war to win all wars, the look of victory in his eyes as he stares down at Donghyuck. Cocky as he takes in the rapid rise and fall of Donghyuck’s chest, touches the blush on his face, presses on the swell of his lips with the rough pad of his thumb. 

“Look at you. You’re already a mess, and I have barely touched you.” Jaemin whispers. If Donghyuck was thinking straight, maybe he would catch the look of wonder in Jaemin’s eyes. “Are you always this easy to rile up?” 

Donghyuck closes his eyes, lashes black against the red of his cheeks, and he grits his teeth.

And it’s tiring to play a game that he knows he’s going to lose, but it’s not boring—something like this could never be boring for someone like Donghyuck, and so he doesn’t forfeit, doesn’t cave so easily. Not now. Another day, maybe, when he’s drained himself of the will to fight on, when he feels a little less like a boy eater and more like a _boy_. 

If that day comes, Donghyuck will surrender himself to Jaemin completely. 

“No.” Donghyuck grits out. Jaemin is all that Donghyuck can see when he looks up again, his eyes half-lidded but holding the aftermath of a storm, and Jaemin looks _shameless_ , dark eyes the color of ink, clouded with pure lust as he looks down at him. Donghyuck can almost feel the electricity that runs through Jaemin’s body like lightning, nerves ablaze and shooting adrenaline down his veins. Donghyuck tilts his head back until it hits the door with a low thud and he presses on Jaemin’s bottom lip with his fingertips. Jaemin lightly bites on the tip of his finger before taking it into his mouth, sucking lightly and releasing it with a pop. Donghyuck can’t take his eyes off of him. “Your mouth pisses me off.”

Jaemin smiles and his voice lowers to a humming, more air than anything, and it chills Donghyuck to the bone, something about it setting Donghyuck off. “Have I already gotten under your skin?”

Donghyuck draws Jaemin in again by his chain, hard enough to make it dig into his skin, vicious until the end, and presses a rough kiss to his mouth, mumbling against his lips. 

“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Good. I have been trying to get into your pants for two months.” 

Jaemin laughs as Donghyuck bites his bottom lip. Donghyuck runs his hands down Jaemin’s bare chest, feeling the hard lines and smooth planes of his abdomen, and Jaemin allows him to do as he pleases, smirking and mouthing along Donghyuck’s collarbones, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin and hands working on Donghyuck’s jeans.

And it is so, so easy to forget about everything he has been told after Jaemin drops to his knees. 

Donghyuck takes off Jaemin’s red horns, tossing them to the floor as he tangles his fingers in blonde locks, and Jaemin rips off his angel wings, golden glitter a ring of divinity around two boys matched by Heaven.

The Devil stains his lips with poison, killing him slowly, but Jaemin is honeymouthed and ambrosian, bright eyed and soft in all the right places, and Donghyuck drinks him in like it will save his life. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And it’s not until the morning after that Donghyuck realizes the gravity of what he has done. And when he does, when his heart drops low into his stomach and his throat constricts, barbed wire wound tight, Donghyuck can only think of one person to run to.

“Donghyuck?” 

Doyoung eyes him carefully.

“You alright, kid?”

And Donghyuck spirals out of control.

Sometimes after soaring high above the world for so long, you forget what it’s like to crash and burn. 

Donghyuck forgot how fiercely he hated losing control. Donghyuck shakes his head, biting down hard on his bottom lip to stop it from quivering, body drawn tight and vision going blurry. And he doesn’t know he’s already started to cry until he looks down at the floor and tears fall from his eyes. 

“Oh, Hyuck, come here.” Doyoung turns around completely, locking his phone and shoving it in his back pocket. Doyoung moves across the room in long strides to take Donghyuck’s hand and guide him to sit on his bed, placing a pillow on his lap for him to hug. And Doyoung mirrors him, cross-legged and hugging another pillow to his chest. Doyoung looks him up and down for a moment in complete silence, assessing him, calculating the damage done like Jaemin had after he got into that fight. 

Donghyuck is like a wounded animal, isn’t he? Something about him that is vicious though he’s broken. 

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“I fucked up, Doyoung hyung.” Donghyuck admits through sniffles, hiding his face in the pillow and swallowing down a sob. He’s too ashamed to look Doyoung in the eye. “I fucked up really bad.” 

Doyoung cards his hand through Donghyuck’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and stroking the back of his head, soothing. “Did something happen?”

Donghyuck nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Not right now?”

Donghyuck nods.

“Okay.” Doyoung says. “That’s okay, Hyuck.”

And his voice is soft, caring, and it honest to God makes Donghyuck cry a little harder. He doesn’t fucking deserve such good people in his life. He doesn’t deserve Jungwoo, or Xuxi, or Renjun, and he really doesn’t fucking deserve someone like Doyoung. He doesn’t deserve having someone to take care of him and talk him down after something happens, to pat his hair and hold his hand as he cries his heart out. Donghyuck doesn’t deserve any of this. 

Donghyuck cries, and he cries, and he cries until it no longer hurts so bad. 

And after he’s done, after he has cried his little heart out and drained himself of the fight to cry more, he looks up from the pillow, and Doyoung is still there. 

“You ready to talk?”

Donghyuck nods, drying his face with his shirt.

“Something happened, right?”

Donghyuck worries at his lip, shoulders drooped and eyes lowered. 

“I had sex with Jaemin.” 

Doyoung doesn’t look all that shocked, and Donghyuck thinks that maybe he should be ashamed. 

“Okay.”

“In some sorority girl’s closet.”

_“In a closet?”_

“It was a walk-in.”

Doyoung looks like he’s going to have a heart attack, but he composes himself, cooling his facial expression into something of neutrality. “Okay—really, Donghyuck? _A closet?_ No—you know what? It’s okay. That’s only a small fuck up. It’s okay, kid. Things like that happen.”

“No. That’s not it.” Donghyuck struggles to find the right words to use, talking slowly to stall the storm rolling in, thundering upon his tired heart. “I think… I think that Jaemin… The Sigma Nu hazing. I think Jaemin is doing to me what Jaehyun hyung did to you.”

Doyoung tenses, frozen in place for a passing moment, and he looks like he’s at a loss for words.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

Doyoung’s tone falls flat. “How do you know about that?” 

Donghyuck winces a little, scratching at the back of his head sheepishly. “Jungwoo hyung told me. I’m sorry, please don’t be angry at him. He was worried because he thought—”

“That Jaemin was doing the same thing to you?” 

Donghyuck nods.

“It’s okay, Hyuck. I’m not angry.” Doyoung waves him off. “A lot of the boys in the house know what happened.” 

“Okay.”

“It happened a long time ago. You’re more important to me right now, okay?” Doyoung searches for Donghyuck’s eyes. “Listen to me. If he’s doing what you think he’s doing, I’ll rip his head off, but you don’t _know_ it for a fact.” 

Donghyuck is stubborn, though, probably stubborn enough to simply stay like this until his last breath, content with running away, and he shakes his head side to side. 

“I don’t want to talk to him.” 

“You have to know for sure.” Doyoung says. Donghyuck almost asks Doyoung how he asked Jaehyun, but that is a line that Donghyuck doesn’t cross. “You have to ask him.” 

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything for a long time, lost in his own thoughts and thinking of how he can ask Jaemin that without actually asking him.

Doyoung is a lot like Jaemin.

Looking through him like he is made of glass, reading him word for word.

“The truth is going to come out sooner or later, Donghyuck.”

“Will it hurt less if it comes from him?”

“No.” Doyoung holds his hand tighter. “It will hurt more.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A part of Donghyuck wants to know Jaemin. 

And Donghyuck doesn’t really know what to do about that part of him. 

That stubborn part of him wants to know Jaemin inside and out, front and back, up and down. What does he say to himself at his lowest of lows? How does he smile at his highest of highs? How he likes to be kissed, how he likes to be touched. What does he look like at night? Washed up and ready for bed? What does he look like in the morning? Bed hair and bad breath, a smile like the morning sun, soft like the edge of daylight. 

Donghyuck really, really wants to know Jaemin, all of him, and he wants Jaemin to know him—to really, really _know him_ —and it scares the shit out of him to want something like that.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“What are you thinking about?” 

Jaemin stands leaning against Donghyuck’s door frame with this look on his face that says he’s been standing there for some time. Donghyuck closes the book on his lap and places it on the bed, crosses his arms and follows the motion of Jaemin’s hand with his eyes as it runs through his hair. Something about Jaemin is so divine—and he draws Donghyuck in endlessly. Donghyuck sinks back into the pillows, propped up just the slightest to lock eyes with Jaemin. “About how you could be a serial killer who is plotting to murder me in cold blood.”

“Sexy.” Jaemin smiles, and it’s the same charming smile he used on Donghyuck the first time they met. Bright. The warmth of a million suns and something a little vicious in its brilliance. Jaemin smiles like he has nothing to lose and all to win, and for the first time in a long time, Donghyuck thinks that he wouldn’t mind losing. “If you’d like, I’ll kill you softly. You’ll be so far gone that you won’t feel a thing.” 

Maybe Donghyuck lost the moment he chose to toy with Jaemin—or was it Jaemin who was toying with him? 

Donghyuck smiles slowly, lazily, “Is that some kind of sexual innuendo?” 

“Does everything have to be about sex?” Jaemin rolls his eyes, voice a little scratchy, but he looks like he’s looking at something beautiful. Jaemin moves across the room, eyes shining with something that Donghyuck realizes is fondness, drops of delicacy in each touch he lays across Donghyuck’s skin, hands finding his sore spots and pressing carefully until Donghyuck’s body turns soft and pliant. Donghyuck doesn’t think anything more of the warmth that floods him as Jaemin presses a kiss on the corner of his mouth and lays on top of him, arms circled around his hips and cheek pressed to his chest. 

Stars fall into rotation above Donghyuck’s head and the world looks rosy from under Jaemin’s hands. 

Is this what falling in love feels like?

Donghyuck runs his hands through Jaemin’s hair, thin fingers tangled in blonde locks that have grown just a little too long. “Not everything.”

Jaemin is soft and pliant, body going completely slack under Donghyuck’s touch. “What do you think Doyoung hyung will do once he finds out you’re dating me?” 

Donghyuck’s hands still, but he doesn’t say anything about how the word “dating” falls from Jaemin’s lips so easily—as if it’s a word that they have both agreed upon, as if what they are doing is something simple and normal, something that is easily called dating. _Is it?_ Donghyuck doesn’t know. This is the kind of thing that could change everything. Donghyuck breathes in. Should he say something? If Jaemin notices the sudden lapse in conversation, or if Jaemin can feel how Donghyuck’s heart suddenly drops, breath hitching, he doesn’t say anything. Donghyuck breathes out. He doesn’t say anything. 

The moment is easily forgotten, easily moved past. 

“Kill me, probably, for sleeping with the enemy.” Donghyuck lies. It’s easier to lie sometimes than to pour your heart out. Time and place, right? And his hands fall back into motion, running his hands through Jaemin’s hair again, “Good thing you got to me first.”

Jaemin nods, but he doesn’t move from his position, looking comfortable enough to fall asleep. 

Something in the air shifts after a minute, and it’s barely there, but Donghyuck feels it. The air feels charged, electric, and Donghyuck suddenly feels too aware of Jaemin’s body on top of him. Jaemin feels it too, shoulders suddenly tense. 

Jaemin moves experimentally, pressing more of his weight onto Donghyuck, and a high pitched whine falls from Donghyuck’s lips, pressure building low in his abdomen and nerves ablaze, aching to feel _more_. Jaemin grows confident, daring, and he slides his hand under Donghyuck’s shirt, fingertips ice cold but burning a line of hellfire as they move across Donghyuck’s warm skin, tracing what feels like a constellation along the slope of his hip. Donghyuck bites back a whine, lips parting to suck in a breath, and his hands tighten around Jaemin’s hair. Jaemin’s hands still, and his eyes darken a shade, trained on Donghyuck’s face—patient, calculating, searching for an edge, a crack in Donghyuck’s porcelain. 

Donghyuck doesn’t give him the satisfaction. Not voluntarily.

“I don’t know if you can call that a good thing, love.” Jaemin is good, though, and he finds a way to work Donghyuck slowly, breaking him down until Donghyuck comes to him on his own. Jaemin comes close, suddenly in Donghyuck’s space, breathing lightly down the crook of his shoulder. Jaemin sucks lightly under his jaw, and a chill runs down Donghyuck’s spine as Jaemin mumbles into his skin, “Safe word?”

Donghyuck breathes in sharply. “Lion.”

Jaemin nods, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. And suddenly Jaemin’s warmth is gone and Donghyuck’s hands fall from his hair, a question on his lips, but the thought is lost the moment Jaemin moves down Donghyuck’s body and makes space for himself between Donghyuck’s thighs. Jaemin hovers above him, one hand on the bed to hold his weight and one hand tilting Donghyuck’s face up, thumb pressing on his bottom lip. Jaemin simply stays like that for a moment, looking down at Donghyuck with eyes that don’t match the position they’re in, the kind of relationship they’re in—there’s something almost fond in his eyes, soft, tender. Jaemin’s voice is low, barely a whisper, but Donghyuck feels like he’s cast a spell on him. “Is this okay?”

Donghyuck doesn’t trust himself enough to say more than a breathless “Yes.”

And it’s more than okay. 

Donghyuck circles his arms around Jaemin’s shoulders and draws him in slowly, carefully, chasing his mouth until he catches Jaemin’s lips in a soft kiss. Donghyuck bites at Jaemin’s bottom lip playfully, taking it into his mouth and sucking lightly, and Jaemin smiles against his mouth, pleased. Donghyuck feels pride pool in his chest, but it’s short lived as he’s taken by a different feeling. 

Jaemin breaks the kiss, and Donghyuck has half the mind to feel humiliation when he whines and chases after Jaemin’s lips. Jaemin smiles at that, teasing, but he doesn’t take his time. Jaemin tilts Donghyuck’s chin up and places a hand on his throat to hold him still, and Donghyuck’s breath hitches. 

Donghyuck’s mouth goes dry at the weight of Jaemin’s hand around his throat, every inch of him drawn tight, blood rushing south and lips parting in a soft, broken gasp before Donghyuck can think to bite it back.

Jaemin stills. 

Like he’s waiting for Donghyuck to use his safe word. Donghyuck doesn’t.

Donghyuck looks at him through half-lidded eyes, and Jaemin looks absolutely devilish.

Jaemin’s hand tightens around Donghyuck’s throat, not enough to actually do anything, not enough to hurt him, but enough to do _something_. The pressure of Jaemin’s hand makes Donghyuck’s body feel like it’s on fire, blood like molten lava and mind like volcanic ash, and something halfway between a moan and a whimper falls from his lips, mindless and wanton. 

Donghyuck slaps a hand across his mouth.

Jaemin doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t take longer than a second to move on and fall back into smooth, lazy motion, but the smirk on his face is telling. 

“Don’t look so smug.” Donghyuck hisses, moving his hand from his mouth to above his head. 

Jaemin laughs lowly and turns Donghyuck’s head to the side, hand still staying on his chin to hold him still. Jaemin’s mouth is warm on his skin, sucking lightly, and Donghyuck arches into the feeling. Jaemin hooks his fingers under the edge of Donghyuck’s shirt and inches it up slowly, pressing open-mouthed kisses on exposed skin, biting softly along his collarbones, and a stupid look of satisfaction on his face when a blush inches up Donghyuck’s skin and blooms red across the tops of his cheeks. It’s almost cute that Jaemin takes so much pride in making him blush, that he is trying so hard to corner him—to make him whine and writhe under him. Donghyuck would think it’s really cute, only if Jaemin wasn’t so good at it. 

Donghyuck’s mouth waters at the thought of Jaemin marking him up, painting him in pinks and reds and purples. And as if he can read Donghyuck’s mind, Jaemin mouths at a soft spot on his chest, taking his time to suck a dark hickey that will probably last for days. 

“You cannot be real.” Donghyuck breathes out through bitten lips, hands back in Jaemin’s hair and he tugs at the ends, just enough to make Jaemin’s hold on him tighten. “How did a boy like you fall for me?” 

“I think you seduced me.” Jaemin draws a line of fire down Donghyuck’s body, sucking light marks down to his belly button. Jaemin halts for a moment, looks up at him from under his lashes and the smile on his lips is half angelic and half devilish, so fitting of a boy who holds all the power in the world in his hands. “You know, you’re good at that. Had some practice?” 

“A lot of practice.” Donghyuck shoots back easily, pride filling his chest as he thinks back on all the good times he had. “High school boys are easy.”

Jaemin stills for a moment, thinking, and suddenly his touch feels bruising, and he bites down particularly harshly above the jut of Donghyuck’s hip. 

Donghyuck sucks in a sharp breath, arching slightly at the pain that shoots up his spine. Donghyuck’s head spins, more with pleasure than with pain, chest rising and falling, and he starts to laugh, realization dawning on him slowly. For God’s sake. Jaemin cannot be real. “Jealous?” 

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth rises, a lazy smirk on his lips, but Jaemin doesn’t say anything for a minute, only looking at Donghyuck with this look in his eyes and mapping something out on Donghyuck’s hip with his fingertips. Jaemin moves across his skin purposefully, and Donghyuck follows his path with his eyes.

Donghyuck’s heart skids to a stop as soon as he realizes what Jaemin is doing. 

Written on Donghyuck’s skin in teasing, slow touches. 

Unmistakably. 

_Na Jaemin._

The look in Jaemin’s eyes is unmistakably… 

“Possessive.” 

“Why?” Donghyuck asks. Grits his teeth as Jaemin’s hands start to wander, burning fiery red down his body. And Donghyuck tangles his fingers in Jaemin’s hair again, strokes the side of his face, and makes Jaemin look up at him. Jaemin is doe-eyed and rosy-cheeked, looking up at him from under his lashes, and he looks so innocent like this, like he hasn’t done a single immoral thing in his life.

“Because you are mine.” 

_And I am yours._

Donghyuck’s world stills. 

_Na Jaemin,_ it says on his skin.

What does it feel like? 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(“Have you fallen for him, Donghyuck?” 

Doyoung asks, and he is so, so patient, so understanding through it all. Donghyuck understands that someone like him should shoulder a pain like this, but Donghyuck wonders how the Heavens could have hurt someone like Doyoung, someone who has so much kindness in his heart, so much good in him. Do they all have to feel something like this? Maybe it is a part of living. Maybe to truly live, you have to hurt sometimes.

“Do you think it’s love?” 

“I don’t know.” Donghyuck says quietly. Honest. As honest as he’s allowed himself to be in years. Something about Doyoung makes it easy to tell him the truth. Maybe it’s because he has no other choice, no other place to run, cornered and driven up a wall that he’s so used to cornering boys into, driving boys up. “I don’t know what that feels like.”)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A voice calls to him from the back of his head, and it whispers dark things, things that make Donghyuck’s head hurt and his conscience shrink in on itself, things that make his body grow tight and rigid, something scratching at his insides and inching under his skin. The voice says things that make his mouth go dry and his hands shake, heart in his throat and blood running cold. Donghyuck knows all of this, what it makes him say, what it makes him do, and still. Still Donghyuck listens to it.

It feels like a promise.

Donghyuck doesn’t like promises. 

“Oh, angel,” Donghyuck feels his expression darken, feels his eyes cloud with something vicious and his touch turn cold. “Do you think this is something that will last?” 

“Do you think that you’re someone to me?” Donghyuck feels bile inch up his throat, words bitter in his mouth, and the urge to gag grows as they climb up from his poisonous heart. Donghyuck breathes in fire, feels it burn through him, and he prays it kills him. “That you’re different from the boys I fucked in high school? You’re just as easy as they are, angel.” 

Jaemin looks him in the eye easily. Stoic. Striking. 

“And I’m going to break your little heart too.” Donghyuck says, pitching his voice low, cold-blooded, poisonous. Some part of Donghyuck seems to take control of his body, tightens his hold on Jaemin’s hair, until he knows it hurts, and cranes Jaemin’s head back, looks down at him through hollow eyes. Some part of Donghyuck sees white, feels euphoria, at how easy it is to say this, how easy it is to fill himself with poison and spit words of venom. It’s this part of himself that he’s the most afraid of. The most rotten side of him that feels like the real side of him. “And after all is said and done, like nothing happened, I’m going to find another boy to break.” 

“Maybe I’ll fuck one of your friends if I feel particularly nasty.” Donghyuck draws out, slowly, lacing each word with venom. And Donghyuck talks plainly now, like he’s only stating facts, making easy conversation—and maybe it’s easy because Jaemin isn’t the first, because Donghyuck has done this time and time again. Something about saying this to Jaemin though feels so, so completely different, and it _hurts_.

Donghyuck is starting to lose feeling in his hands, in all of his body—it always feels like that when this happens—and they fall from Jaemin’s hair, sliding down to his shoulders. Donghyuck moves out from under him, closing in so that he’s in Jaemin’s space, faces close. Jaemin’s eyes follow the way his shirt falls and hides the painting he’s made of Donghyuck’s skin, something crossing his face, something _possessive_. A smirk lines Donghyuck’s mouth, and he draws Jaemin in closer, whispers his words against Jaemin’s lips. “Maybe Renjun. You know him, don’t you? How about Jeno? Is he good in bed?” 

Jaemin’s facial expression darkens the slightest, eyes narrowing a fraction, and Donghyuck feels _powerful,_ feels the satisfaction flood him. Power makes everything feel a little easier—it’s something like a mind numbing, all controlling painkiller, and Donghyuck breathes it in like he has been in pain all of his life. 

_Has he?_

“Don’t you understand, angel?” Donghyuck feels his lips rise into a scathing smile, once golden dulcet tones of his voice colored black and white, shades of gray and cold, colder than it has sounded in his life, maybe. Donghyuck’s mouth moves on its own and forces up walls that he has worked so hard to lower. 

Donghyuck is good at that. 

Fucking up.

“You are nothing to me.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(“I don’t want to fall in love, hyung.” Donghyuck admits quietly, like it’s a secret that he’s sharing for the first time. And it is, probably. Maybe this is Donghyuck’s little secret that he’s hidden for so long that he’s forgotten it was a secret in the first place. “I really don’t want to fall in love.”

“You don’t choose to fall in love, Donghyuck.”

Doyoung smiles at him, small and passive and nothing like his usual bright grin. Sadness shines so clearly in his eyes, bitter, painting his smile in shades of heartache. Donghyuck doesn’t like how sadness looks on Doyoung. It looks out of place. 

“There are some things that you have no control of. Things that you won’t understand no matter how hard you try. Love is one of them.”

Doyoung takes a hold of Donghyuck's hand, holding him in place and silently asking him to listen carefully. And like all those days ago, Donghyuck hangs off of his words. 

“Sometimes you love someone without knowing it, without knowing how bad you’ve got it, until you try to make yourself forget them. You can try—God, you can try harder than you have tried anything in your life, but it’s easier said than done.” 

Doyoung still hasn’t forgotten about Jaehyun, has he? 

Donghyuck really hopes that some day, far down the line, they can try again. Donghyuck prays that if what they had was real, it will work out for them one day.

“Your heart isn’t good at forgetting someone like that.”)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Something hangs in the air above them and the world slows if only for a moment, if only for Donghyuck and Jaemin to size each other up, sharing the same air but worlds apart, and silence falls upon them in breaths. Two souls still at odds, moving around each other in circles, searching for an edge, an advantage, a moment of hesitation, of vulnerability. How long have they been doing this? Forwards. Backwards. Donghyuck doesn’t know how long they go on like this—doesn’t know if he’s the hunter or the hunted. No one closes in and no one backs away. 

And it is only a moment, a passing moment that feels like nothing in comparison to the years Donghyuck has lived, but it is not easily forgotten. 

Donghyuck loses focus, looking at Jaemin, but not really looking at him—no, Donghyuck is looking past him. Donghyuck looks into the mirror across the room, and it feels like something out of a dream, to look at yourself in the looking glass and not realize that it’s _you._

_Is that me?_

Eyes like black obsidian. Like ink. Calculating. Careful. Lips painted red with a smile he doesn’t feel. Stained with poison and words he doesn’t mean. 

_Liar._

Donghyuck looks through himself, and he sees someone in pain. 

It all hurts so bad—how is it possible to hurt like this? To not see a single scratch on your skin and to _hurt._

_Please make it stop._

The voice in the back of his head sings.

_You should have run for your life._

Donghyuck’s voice loses its edge. 

“It will be so easy to forget about you.”

And some pain is lasting, isn’t it? Some pain is hidden under your skin and snaked around your ribs.

It’s so hard to breathe.

_Please, Jaemin._ Donghyuck pleads. _Let me go._

A moment of hesitation, of vulnerability, is all it takes. 

The lion pounces. 

Jaemin smiles against his lips. 

_I can’t._ Jaemin answers. 

“I would like to see you try.”

And Donghyuck does try, but Jaemin is completely captivating, confidence the color of ink in his eyes and charm that flows from his lips like honey.

Donghyuck is powerless under his eyes. 

Jaemin takes, and takes, hand around Donghyuck’s throat, painting him pink and red and purple and breathing warmth into him, and Donghyuck caves like a house of cards. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The pain fades.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s easy to forget that even tightrope walkers fall sometimes too.

Donghyuck should have been more careful.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Falling in love.

What does it feel like?

Like a body falling from a 10 story building. You think you should look away, out of respect, maybe for your own sake, but it’s hard. You know how it’s going to end, don’t you? And yet. It’s almost beautiful in its sinister, haunting way. It’s only human to feel so intimately about something like this, helplessly, to hurt and feel pain like this. And something about catastrophe, something about moments like this, chaos and tragedy and ruin, and the seconds between life and death makes us curious. 

Curiosity is a slow killer. 

You don’t know any better, you’re still so young and naive, and not knowing makes you feel something inexplicable, something beautiful, something ugly. Time slows and the world stops, only for you, all for you, like it’s saying _it’s okay, my love, you can look, you have to look,_ asking one last thing of you. And you couldn’t have looked away if you wanted to. 

_The world looks so beautiful like this._

Closer. 

What is it like to have your life flash before your eyes? 

Sometimes you wonder what you would see. Your childhood? Your parents? What do they see? You hope it’s something happy. They’re still going to die, aren’t they? For a moment you wonder if someone will catch them. No one moves. Time moves so slowly like this, doesn’t it? 

Closer. 

Like an angel falling from Heaven. Wings and halo and all that make it glow so beautifully taken away by Heaven’s will. Gone and forgotten. And yet. _And yet._ Something about a fallen angel is still so divine. Angels. Humans. It’s all the same, isn’t it? Someone is still falling and you’re still helpless—and maybe, maybe, you’re falling too. 

You’re not so different after all. 

And that’s not so bad, is it? 

It’s easier to breathe like this, the air rushing into your lungs, the world stopping for you, only for you. The clouds look like angel wings. It’s exhilarating, to feel so human, to feel so _alive_. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck has fallen for Jaemin, hasn’t he?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(Donghyuck picks at his fingers, worrying at his lip again, and he doesn’t really know what to say for a long time. After some time, Donghyuck starts to forget that he should say something. Donghyuck’s mind wanders until it inevitably comes to Jaemin again. That happens a lot, doesn’t it? 

All he can think about is Jaemin. 

“Doyoung hyung, do you think I love him?”

“I think you feel _something_ for him.” Doyoung says slowly, carefully. And Doyoung thinks for a moment, weighing his words. Doyoung has to have realized that Donghyuck takes his words to heart, trusting his intuition more than he trusts his own. “Maybe it’s not love, but it’s something, isn’t it?”

Donghyuck stiffens. 

And he nods.

“It’s something.”

Doyoung looks at him like he still has a lot to learn about the world, like a baby bird learning to fly but who is afraid of falling. Doyoung has always been good at reading others, hasn’t he? 

“Sometimes that feeling of _something,_ that feeling of something _different,_ is enough to try.”

“Try what?”

“Try loving him.”)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The clock across Donghyuck’s room glows red, bright in his dark room.

11:11. 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, pointedly thinking of nothing in particular, and he holds his breath until some time passes. 

11:12. 

Donghyuck allows himself to think after that, slowing his breathing to match Jaemin’s, and slowly, carefully, Donghyuck comes to a couple of conclusions. 

One. 

This is not the beginning of the end. Maybe it’s more like the end of the beginning. 

Two. 

Jaemin is an unstoppable force that will kill him sooner or later, but Donghyuck likes the weight of Jaemin’s eyes on him and the warmth of Jaemin’s hands on him, and the feeling of his heart racing when Jaemin comes close and the blood rushing to his face when Jaemin looks at him from across the room. Donghyuck doesn’t know if what he’s feeling is actually love, the love that Jaemin has in his heart, the love that Jaemin will ask of him some day, but Donghyuck knows one thing. 

Three.

Having Jaemin around makes living a little easier. 

And what more do you need to stick around a little longer than something as simple as that?

Sometimes it’s hard to think like that though. Sometimes it’s hard for Donghyuck to think he’s deserving of someone like Jaemin. 

Donghyuck has long forgotten what it feels like to feel worthy of something like love, like worship, but who is Donghyuck to doubt if Jaemin truly loves him? How can Donghyuck question Jaemin’s love if it is something so simple, so straightforward? Jaemin is filled with so much love that Donghyuck thinks that sometimes Jaemin doesn’t know what to do with himself. Jaemin loves unconditionally, so effortlessly and naturally, like he doesn’t know how _not_ to love. 

Jaemin is nothing if not loving. And Donghyuck? Donghyuck doesn’t know a thing about love—only that it feels like falling.

Falling in love feels something like falling from a balcony, something like falling from space. Maybe a shooting star is someone falling in love. The world looks beautiful when you fall in love. 

And what does falling out of love feel like? Maybe it feels like waking up suddenly from a dream—like realizing you had drifted off and dreamed of a place that is too beautiful, too rosy, to be a reality. 

Does the world stilll look beautiful when you fall out of love? 

Maybe some day Donghyuck will find out.

Some day.

Not today.

Today Donghyuck is helplessly in love.

Jaemin is like fire, looks like he’s made of heavenly light and feels like he’s made of hellish flames, burning brilliantly, and Donghyuck aches to feel his warmth on his hands, aches to feel it on his skin and all around him. 

Sometimes Donghyuck feels like he has come too close, like he has run into a house on fire, so full of stupid courage and blind ambition, breathing in blue flames and killing himself slowly from the inside out. 

It is days like that that Donghyuck swims in a pool of black. 

Stars above him and doubled on the ink stained glass of the water, and Donghyuck stills, feels his heart drop, feels his blood run cold. And he knows something is in the water, something as old as time. It takes him under so easily, so effortlessly, this thing that looks just like him and smiles at him like it has waited for him, like it has missed him. Oh, it’s so, so familiar, this shade of darkness, this feeling of water filling his lungs and his mouth and his ears, and Donghyuck’s poisoned heart almost longs for it—longs for it to take him completely. Donghyuck falls into his own tainted thoughts, back against the wall, cornered by his own demons. 

(Sometimes Donghyuck thinks he should break Jaemin’s heart before Jaemin breaks his, quickly, once and for all, for the sake of them both, and still. 

Still he stays. 

The truth is that if Donghyuck was going to break Jaemin’s heart, he would have broken it a long time ago. Maybe Donghyuck had known from the start that Jaemin was different.)

It is days like that that Donghyuck feels cold. 

Jaemin is endlessly warm, touch like gasoline, and Donghyuck craves the feeling of fire on his skin. 

It is days like that that Donghyuck misses the old times, the comfort of darkness, the quiet of standing under the harsh spray of the shower and washing away the prints on his skin, tender touches scrubbed away with soap and ice cold water, the moments of silence that fall upon his mind after he’s satisfied his demons—they always come back, hungry again, but in those moments, he is at ease, starry black behind his eyelids.

Jaemin’s eyes darken just a little sometimes, ink-like under the light of the moon, and Donghyuck has grown fond of that shade of black, that side of Jaemin that only he knows.

It’s something like a paradox, to feel like he’s on fire and to feel like he’s drowning, to feel like Jaemin is killing him slowly and to feel like Jaemin is saving his life. 

And sometimes Jaemin looks at Donghyuck like he knows what he’s thinking, like he knows Donghyuck could run away at any moment, but Jaemin doesn’t ask anything of him, doesn’t look at him like he’s rotten, only catching him and holding onto him tight, soothing hands and lazy smile. 

It’s a good thing that one of them is good at trusting, isn’t it? 

Jaemin has more than enough trust to make up for Donghyuck’s doubt; more than enough love to make up for Donghyuck’s forgetfulness. And Jaemin is understanding, _so, so understanding_ , and so good to him. Sometimes Donghyuck feels like Jaemin is too good for him. Is it selfish that Donghyuck is taking Jaemin for himself? How did a boy like Jaemin, warm and angelic, fall for someone like Donghyuck, someone so cold, rotten to the core, venom running in his veins and something ugly in his heart? Someone who has forgotten to love. Someone who still has so much to learn about the world. Jaemin is too good for him, Donghyuck knows, and he’s sure that Jaemin knows it too. Jaemin knows that he’s too good for someone like Donghyuck, and still. 

Still Jaemin chooses him. 

_Stupid boy._

Stupid, stupid, lion hearted boy.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The air conditioning kicks on only after midnight, and Donghyuck’s room is always hot, but Donghyuck sticks close to Jaemin’s side, not minding the added heat. It makes him feel warm, and there is something so simple and comforting about holding someone to sleep, something innocent and intimate about tangled legs and shared heat and whispered nothings. 

Donghyuck props himself up just enough to catch a glimpse of the look of ease on Jaemin’s face, eyes closed and lashes fanned out on his moonlit skin. Jaemin is so, so beautiful, and Donghyuck always wants to kiss him. Tonight is no different, Donghyuck thinks, as he presses a wet kiss to Jaemin’s bare shoulder. 

Jaemin wakes at that, whining at the feeling, voice low and scratchy with sleep, and Donghyuck smiles at the sound. Donghyuck is so fond of him, isn’t he? So filled with warmth at the smallest of things. So drawn to Jaemin like a moth to a flame or something just as cliched but just as timeless. And Donghyuck is still so clueless, but his heart pounds with the desperation of someone with nothing to lose. 

Donghyuck feels _something_.

And he thinks that trying wouldn’t kill him. 

It wouldn’t kill him more than not trying.

Donghyuck falls back into the pillows, looking into the darkness of his room, thinking, and he says this after minutes have passed, quietly, carefully, “You know you’re my boy, right?” 

Some more minutes pass. Jaemin doesn’t move. The moon shines through the clouds and the wind howls lowly, singing a love song about midnight skies and star crossed lovers as the minutes of the night slip through Donghyuck’s idle fingers. Slow breathing like the rise and fall of the sun, sometimes Donghyuck forgets how to breathe, forgets how good it feels to live; silence feels like a small mercy; sometimes talking feels like confessing his sins; thoughts taken into consideration, weighted, studied, taken apart, taped back together again. 

Donghyuck has almost forgotten he said anything. 

“I know.” Jaemin says, whispered words almost lost in his breathing, talking more into the pillow than to Donghyuck. Donghyuck questions if Jaemin is actually awake or if he has drifted off again, talking in his sleep, but it’s like Jaemin knows what he’s thinking, and he doesn’t allow Donghyuck room to doubt. Jaemin blindly searches for Donghyuck’s hand and holds it close to his heart. Donghyuck takes his answer, his simple _“I know”_ and his racing heart, for what it is. Jaemin knows what he means. 

Sometimes you don’t have to say “I love you” to say I love you.

Sometimes you can say it in your own way.

Donghyuck takes his hand back, running it down the slopes of Jaemin’s shoulder and back to feel him shiver under his touch. And Donghyuck maps something out on Jaemin’s back, moving slowly, taking his time to make it perfect. 

Jaemin tenses at first, body drawn tight as if he’s trying to work out in his head from sensation alone what Donghyuck is doing. “Are you writing something?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Jaemin complains halfheartedly, looking back at him for a moment, curiosity in his sleep-filled eyes. “What does it say?”

“Not going to tell you.”

It’s simple, though.

Just two words. 

Donghyuck writes it one last time, slowly so that Jaemin can map it out in his head. Jaemin realizes what it says halfway in, Donghyuck can feel it under his hands, how Jaemin’s body loses its tension, becoming soft and pliant, airy laughter falling from his lips in breaths as he turns around to face him. Donghyuck draws the covers up to his shoulders and moves into Jaemin’s arms, two halves of one whole and hearts beating in harmony. Donghyuck closes his eyes, content staying like this. 

Written across Jaemin’s shoulder blades like angel wings. 

_Lee Donghyuck._

Jaemin says one last thing, and Donghyuck doesn’t bother to look, but he knows a winning smile is plastered across his face. 

“Look who’s possessive now.”

And Donghyuck doesn’t say anything after that, doesn’t have to, because Jaemin understands him. 

_Because you are mine._

_And I am yours._

Donghyuck falls asleep knowing that Jaemin is all around him—in his bed, in his arms, in his heart—and he dreams about a boy learning to love.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck wakes to sunlight filtering through the blinds and shining across his face, his phone lighting up on the bedside table. Once. Twice. 

It’s two texts from Doyoung. 

_I know you didn’t listen to me and didn’t talk to Jaemin like I told you to, so I asked Yoonoh._

_Sigmas don’t do that anymore._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And Donghyuck doesn’t move for a long time. Cross legged on the foot of his bed and blanket slipping from around his shoulders and pooling around his hips, air conditioning chilling his bare skin, Donghyuck looks at some place above the mass of pillows and blankets in the middle of his bed, thinking of lots of things, thinking of nothing. 

It’s not until the mountain moves and Jaemin’s bed head of blond hair rises from the sea of white cotton that Donghyuck says something, a soft smile rising on his lips as he watches Jaemin slowly wake himself up.

“Good morning, angel.” 

“Morning,” Jaemin mumbles, voice low and scratchy with sleep, barely above a whisper as he stretches across Donghyuck’s bed like a cat. It’s cute. “How long have you been awake, Duck?”

“Not too long.” Donghyuck says, and he touches Jaemin’s ankle, drawing a little heart on his skin. “Long enough to know that you talk about me in your sleep, though.”

“Really?” Jaemin looks nonchalant, not a sheepish bone in his body. “At least it wasn’t a wet dream.” 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes, parrots Jaemin’s own words. “Does everything have to be about sex?”

They laugh, breathy, and something about it is intimate, like it’s something only the two of them are in on. They fall quiet after that, simply existing around each other and taking the day one minute at a time.

Jaemin looks like he’s about to fall asleep again, and God, he is so stupid sometimes, so smug, so provoking, but above all, Jaemin is so good to him, and Donghyuck really, really wants to be good to him too. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(It’s days later that Donghyuck knocks on Doyoung’s door again. 

Days of thinking, days of not thinking, days of half-thinking.

“Doyoung hyung?” 

“Yes?”

“I think I’m going to try.”

Donghyuck looks out the window; at the fading clouds that line the sky, like lace in the soft blues of the sky, and he thinks of taking it a day at a time, Jaemin at his side.

“I’m going to try loving Jaemin.” Donghyuck breathes, looking down at his hands. “I don’t know if I know how, and I’m still a little afraid, but I really want to try.”

“Good.” Doyoung takes his hand, holds it tightly, and he looks at Donghyuck like he sees himself, a little younger and a little more naive, maybe. And Doyoung smiles genuinely, happily. “That’s really, really good, Donghyuck.”

“Love is a good thing.” Doyoung says. “It makes the world look a little more beautiful.”)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Donghyuck is sure about this. 

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything for a minute, blinking blankly at Donghyuck’s question, eyes still clouded with sleep, and slowly, like the morning sun, he starts to shine, soft yellows and baby blues and clouds that look like cotton candy. Jaemin smiles, uncharacteristically shy, and he runs a hand down his face, lazy and half awake, eyes half-lidded and blonde hair sticking in different directions. 

Donghyuck thinks he looks beautiful like this. 

Jaemin’s eyes run down Donghyuck’s face, this small, fond smile on his lips as he says “And here I thought we were already married and looking for a dog to adopt.” 

Donghyuck breathes easily.

“I want a fish.” 

“So we’ll have a fish.”

Donghyuck grins, turning his head away to hide from Jaemin’s stupid starry eyes, and he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. 

Sunlight drawing a halo above his head, roses blooming on his cheeks, reds and pinks and purples on his neck, his shoulders and his chest, Jaemin’s writing on his skin. For the first time in a really, really long time, Donghyuck thinks he looks happy. Really, really happy. 

Happiness feels like a lot of things, Donghyuck thinks. It still feels a little like falling, but Donghyuck feels at ease, arms like wings, holding the clouds in his hands, like he trusts that someone will catch him. 

“Donghyuck?” 

Jaemin mirrors Donghyuck’s position, sitting up with the blankets around his hips. Donghyuck tilts his head to the side, showing that he’s listening, but his eyes wander, mapping out his own writing on Jaemin’s chest—reds and pinks and purples that color Jaemin’s skin in shades of fondness—a love poem of Donghyuck’s making.

“Ask me again.” 

Jaemin looks at him like he’s the only thing he has ever asked for.

It’s a good feeling, Donghyuck thinks, to be looked at like that.

“Na Jaemin, do you want to be my boyfriend?”

“Yes.” Jaemin says, placing his trust in Donghyuck’s hands, simply and unconditionally. “I would love to be your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck.”

Doyoung was right. 

The world does look more beautiful like this.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


And maybe, _this_ is how it really started.

Maybe all of this is only the start.

Some of it happened in slow motion, like he was in a movie and this was the beginning of a love story that could end in one of two ways—maybe happily ever after, and maybe it would crash and burn, sooner or later, but isn’t that how all things end? All things have to continue, days passing by mindlessly and time slipping through idle fingers until something happens, something all powerful and fated, something like a call from Heaven. Something like a fallen angel. Something like a boy whose touch feels like fire and whose eyes look like oceans of ink. 

Something like falling in love. 

How do you hide from something like that?

And maybe a day will come that Jaemin falls out of love. A day will come that Jaemin looks at Donghyuck and realizes that he’s not worth it. A day will come that Jaemin chooses someone with more love in his heart, someone who loves like he does. Simply and unconditionally. Completely and honestly. Not like Donghyuck who loves unknowingly, helplessly, and uncontrollably. 

If a day like that comes, and it’s Jaemin who breaks his heart for the first time, Donghyuck won’t blame him. 

A boy like Donghyuck had to have his heart broken once or twice. Nothing personal.

Donghyuck only asks that Jaemin break his heart carefully, softly, slowly.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this little thing of mine :D a million thanks to the friends i have made throughout this fic fest and to the lovely tea!!! none of us would have made it without your hard work. a million and one thanks to you!!!!!!!!! and thank you to the prompter too! i took this prompt and made it into a skeleton of what it was and i am so so sorry for that ;—; i am sure this is not at all what you thought would come out of it but i really hope that you find something in this that you like? and if not you have my apologies ;—;
> 
> tell me what you thought of this!!!!! :D


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